


Threads of Mithril

by MadMaggie



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, M/M, Tolkien is great but he killed the Durins and that must be fixed, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-02-29 19:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 53,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18784918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMaggie/pseuds/MadMaggie
Summary: Erebor is reclaimed. As the rebuilding begins there are many difficulties to overcome. Not all are happy to see the King Under the Mountain returned to the Lonely Mountain.The necromancer was forced to flee into the east, but the shadow's reach is long and many will feel it's touch as it grows stronger. As alliances are built or broken as the shadow waits to strike.With all the strife in the world what are a dwarf and hobbit to do when all they want is a little privacy and to be left alone?





	1. After the Battle

Everything was blurry and his head hurt. Why did his head hurt? Why couldn’t he seem to put two thoughts together?

Something large passed overhead shadowing him for a second. What was that? He blinked as he tried to make sense of what was going on above him. Squinting hard he could see well enough to know it was one of the great eagles of Manwë. “The eagles are coming,” he mused. The sky was filled with eagles. That was a good thing. The eagles were a very good thing. That he could remember.

He tried to stand but moving made him feel nauseous. With a little effort, he managed to roll over and lay on his side panting as he fought not to throw up. After a moment, the urge to empty his stomach passed and he was able to sit.

The smell wasn’t helping his stomach. What was that smell? Rich and coppery. It was so thick he could almost taste it. It smelled like …blood.

Blood? The battle!

He remembered now! Bolg marched with an army toward Raven Hill. He had been looking for Thorin!

Bilbo pushed his way to standing ignoring his bodies protest. He swayed dangerously as his vision grayed out and he fought to stay conscious. Bile rose in his throat as his stomach rebelled. A deep breath, then another. After a moment, everything settled. Worry rode him like a cruel saddle. He had to find Thorin! He’d last seen him down by the lake. His footsteps were slow as he walked toward where he thought he would find the lake. His mind barely registered the bodies of the fallen as he passed.

He took a turn and found himself at a wall blocking his way. There was no door, though there was damage near the top of the wall but it was too high to be of use to him. Hand brushing the ancient stone, he paced along the broken tower wall until he found an open area low enough he could see over.

The sound of battle didn’t reach him this high. Eyes that struggled to focus searched for a sign of Thorin finally locating the familiar shape standing at the edge of the waterfall. Azog lay on the ice behind him. If he squinted hard, he could make out what looked like Thorin’s sword protruding from the orc’s chest. The Dwarf King had finally slain the pale orc! The tight coil of anxiety that centered in his chest eased. As he opened his mouth to cheer, Thorin collapsed.

Before he’d even given it conscious thought, he was running. His head still hurt and his vision was blurry around the edges but he didn’t notice as he made his way to Thorin.

When he found him, he was lying on his back staring up at the sky.

Blue eyes found his drawn by his arrival. For a moment, he thought he saw relief flicker in those eyes. “Bilbo,” Thorin said sounding breathless as his mouth turned up in a slight smile.

“No, no don’t move. Lie still,” said Bilbo as he patted the dwarf’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you are here. I wish to part from you in friendship.” He coughed a thick, liquid sound that stole his breathe.

“No. You are not going anywhere Thorin. You’re going to live.” Pulling up the edge of Thorin’s tunic, he looked at the wound seeping blood from the dwarf’s middle. A desperate groan tore from him at the sight. There was too much blood. “I need some help here!” he yelled to anyone in the area.

Thorin’s hand wrapped around his arm, the grip too weak for such a powerful dwarf. “I would take back my words and deeds at the gate. You did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me.” Thorin reached for him his fingers brushing over Bilbo’s hand. “I was too blind to see it. I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril.”

“No. no I’m glad to have shared in your perils Thorin. Each and every one.” They were almost nose-to-nose now, Bilbo willing Thorin to see his sincerity. “It is far more than any Baggins deserves,” he said. Thorin smiled faintly at his words.

Legolas dropped down beside them, his hands reaching for both of them drawing both of their gazes for a brief moment.

Bilbo held his worried gaze. “I am tired and will need your strength to stop his bleeding,” Legolas said.

Bilbo nodded furiously. “Anything for him!”

Legolas moved both of Bilbo’s hands to rest over the wound. He covered the hobbit’s smaller hands with his own and began to chant quietly.

Bilbo leaned down bringing his face closer to the dwarf’s. Thorin smiled back at him. “Farewell Master Burglar,” he murmured.

The strange feeling of something vital passing from Legolas to Bilbo and into Thorin made the hobbit gasp. He kept his eyes on Thorin and not on what Legolas was doing.

“Go back to your books and your armchair. Plant your trees. Watch them grow. If more people valued home above gold. This world would be a merry place.” Thorin grimaced and grunted in pain.

Bilbo could feel a small part of himself combining with the energy Legolas was using. Thorin grew still, his eyes sliding closed. “No, no, no, no, no Thorin! Thorin don’t you dare!”

Legolas slumped and his hands slid away. “I can do no more,” he said quietly. Bilbo glanced at the elf briefly. His skin looked gray and he was having trouble holding himself upright but otherwise looked fine.

“Thorin hold on.” His hand stroked Thorin’s hair. “Thorin hold on. The eagles.” He pointed to the sky. “The eagles are here. Thorin!” His words were desperate and small.

Thorin didn’t respond. In that sudden stillness, Bilbo’s world crumbled. He collapsed on the dwarf’s chest. His tears mingled with the blood and dirt that covered Thorin’s tunic. He did not cry aloud. The shock was too great. He could only lay there as silent tears streamed down his face. A hand fisted in the torn tunic, holding him tightly to the dwarf as if that would somehow keep them together.

Bilbo closed his eyes growing still in his misery. Only then did he feel the slow rise and fall of the dwarf’s chest as he breathed. That small movement was the spark that reanimated the hobbit. A sob of relief was torn from his throat as he lay over the dwarf king protectively. He barely noticed when an eagle picked them up or when they were set down by the healing tents and Legolas was set down beside them.

**_______________________________**

Thranduil walked the ruined tower of Raven Hill searching for his son. A piercing scream drew his eyes up to see his son being born away by one of the great eagles. Constricting bands of worry and fear released his heart as a harsh breath escaped him. His son was still alive. The eagle wouldn’t take him if there were no hope for him.

The sound of a voice crying in pain drew him towards the other side of the tower. He found Tauriel curled up against a dark haired dwarf gently stroking his hair. He could see the dwarf still breathed, but he struggled greatly. She looked up at the sound of his approach. The pain etched on her face stabbed at his heart.

“He is fading and I do not have the strength to heal him,” she said turning her eyes back to the dwarf.  
Thranduil knelt down beside them putting a hand on the dwarf’s forehead. He was injured badly and fading fast. His hand hovered above the wound on the dwarf’s chest asking silently for permission. She nodded. His hand settled over the wound in the dwarf’s chest and surprisingly Tauriel’s hand moved to cover his. Together they began the healing chant, combining their energy to stabilize the dwarf.

Once he was breathing easier and the bleeding had stopped, Thranduil rose to his feet and took a step back. “Come away so they may take him to the healing tents,” he told Tauriel and held out his hand to her. She stepped away and an eagle swooped down, gently curling great talons around the fallen dwarf and spiriting him away.

“You did well Tauriel,” he commended her.

She scrubbed at her eyes trying to dry the tears. “I can’t make them stop,” she protested. “If this is love, I do not want it.” She scrubbed her hands together in an agitated gesture. “Why does it hurt so much?” she pleaded her eyes searched his.

“Because it is real,” he answered.

“Take it from me. I cannot bear it,” she cursed.

“He will live,” chastised Thranduil. “Stop this at once!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and made her look at him. “Find some way to be helpful. Distraction helps,” he said his words soft and knowing.

“I need to be with him,” she countered.

“I know you do, but the healers will be working on him now and you will be in the way,” he reminded her. “Go find something to do now and go to him in a few hours. You will feel better for it.”

She looked around her and noticed the death and devastation seemingly for the first time. “There are so many,” she whispered in shock.

“The orc army was vast,” said Thranduil. “The cost to stop them was high for all of us.”

“I will go and find more wounded,” she declared. As they walked past an orc, it moved trying to sit up. Tauriel’s blade was in its throat before she’d given it thought.

Thranduil’s mouth curved into a cold smile. “I think you will do fine until you can see him again,” he commented.

Tauriel stared at where her blade was buried in the orcs neck. Black blood leaked around it coating her blade in the vile ichor. Looking at the orc made her angry. Orcs always made her angry. They did nothing but destroy and kill. Their filth should be cleansed from Middle Earth. Her eyes held to her blade as if it were a lodestone. This she could do. This would keep her from fretting over Kili until she could see him again.

She turned to look at Thranduil, who was watching her with cold amusement. She returned his look with a feral smile and turned to her work. Any wounded she found, she signaled to be picked up often times by the eagles, who flew overhead watching for those who needed help. Any living orcs she found were quickly dispatched. Her blade was black with their blood. A trail of droplets followed her path as she wound her way through the battlefield uncovering wounded so they could be taken to the healers and dispatching orcs who hadn’t already died of their wounds.

Dwarven curses drew her attention. The large, tattooed dwarf, she forgot his name, carried someone, who cursed loudly. When she drew close, she could see his passenger was Kili’s brother. “Do you need help Master Dwarf?” she asked eyeing the golden haired prince.

The dwarf carrying Fili turned to her mutiny in his eyes until he recognized who was speaking to him. “No lass,” he told her. “I can get the runt to the healing tents just fine.”

“Who are you calling a runt?” protested the dwarf in his arms. The tattooed dwarf stepped over a body the movement jostling his passenger. “Damnit Dwalin that hurts,” hissed the blond prince as he grabbed his leg.

Tauriel grinned at Fili’s ire. “He’ll be okay?” she asked.

“Broke his leg when they dropped him off that tower and he’s got a huge cut on his side,” he informed her. “But he should be okay.” Fili had gone pale and was muttering in Khuzdul under his breath as he tried to hold his broken leg still.

Tauriel watched him walk away before resuming her search.

“We’re almost there Fili,” murmured Dwalin. “Just a little bit farther.”

“Have you seen Kili or Uncle Thorin?” he asked, his head lolling on Dwalin’s shoulder.

“If Tauriel is up walking around and skewering orcs then your brother is either fine or in the healing tents,” he said. “But I haven’t seen your uncle since we went up to Raven Hill.”

Fili closed his eyes against the pain of the possible loss of his Uncle. “Go find him next, okay?” he asked. “No matter what, bring him down from Raven Hill.”

“You know I will laddie,” he assured the prince.

Balin met him at the edge of the elven tents hands reaching out to touch the prince. “Bring him to the biggest tent,” he instructed his brother. “They’re taking care of the less wounded there.” He fell into step beside them as they walked.

“I haven’t seen Thorin since we went up to Raven Hill,” he said solemnly. “I’ll go find him next.”

“Thorin is in the smaller tent being tended now,” Balin informed him as he pointed to the tent they were approaching.

“He’s already here with the healers?”

“Aye. He and Bilbo were brought in together.”

“The burglar found him?” he asked.

Balin nodded. “They’re both in bad shape though,” he said. “Thorin was skewered by that white bastard, but Bilbo said he killed him this time.” He tugged at his beard. “Bilbo has a bad concussion.”

“But they are still alive so there is hope,” Dwalin reminded him.

Balin looked at Fili meeting his eye. “As heir you will have to act in your Uncle’s stead until he is well,” he informed the prince.

Fili nodded. “Just until he is we-“ he started to say.

A loud roar that could only be Thorin brought everyone around them to a halt as they all turned toward the tent. “Hold him down!” yelled Oin. “If he rips out those stitches, he’ll bleed to death.” Another pained roar drowned out whatever else the healer had been yelling. When the roar became a scream of anguished pain, Fili turned his head into Dwalin’s shoulder.

“Send him to sleep you useless elf!” yelled Bilbo. “Don’t just stand there staring.”

King Thranduil passed them and slipped into the smaller tent where Thorin was being helped. “If you can’t do your job as a healer, then you are dismissed!” growled Thranduil. A distressed elf fled the tent almost running into Dwalin and Fili as he passed.

“Thranduil,” breathed Bilbo in obvious relief.

Thorin’s scream had become a pained whimper.

“Master Hobbit,” he greeted Bilbo. “He will not appreciate my helping him,” he observed.

“I don’t care,” yelled Bilbo. “Help him. I cannot lose him.”

Nothing more was heard from them, but Thorin’s pained whimper cut off suddenly.

Balin looked from his brother to the prince curled up in his arms. “Let’s get him taken care of brother,” he said gently. “Our king is being well looked after.”

Dwalin nodded and followed his brother into the bigger tent. Fili was directed to the bed next to Kili, who lay pale and unmoving. “He’ll be okay?” he asked the elven healer who moved to look at the wound in his side.

“He’s resting quietly,” she assured him. “He should heal in time.”

Fili nodded thankfully and laid back to let her work, gritting his teeth against the pain as she began to stitch up the wound in his side.

**_______________________________**

Bilbo watched Oin and Thranduil closely as they worked. His head hurt and he was having trouble focusing on what exactly they were doing, but he knew it was important. They’d given him a stool to sit on so he’d be out of the way, but it was small and he was having trouble staying on it. After he fell off it several times, he gave up and sat on the ground.

They stitched Thorin’s wound and bound it. Bilbo thought he looked diminished, less than his vibrant self. The dwarf lay on the cot in nothing but his trousers, his middle swathed in thick white bandages. The cut on his face had been cleaned and was covered in a thick salve.

Thranduil watched him instead of working on Thorin. “Help him!” scolded Bilbo pointing imperiously at the dwarf on the cot. Yelling made his head throb harder. He pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to relieve the pressure.

“I have done all I can Master Hobbit,” the elf king told him. “It is you I am worried about now.”

“I’m fine!” declared Bilbo belligerently as his hand went to his gut to stop the roiling inside. “Just took a little blow to the head.” He lost his battle with the nausea and rolled to the side to heave, but there was nothing in his stomach to empty.

Large hands on his shoulders supported him. “You are not fine you silly hobbit,” said Thranduil softly. “You are so worried for your dwarf that you are not taking care of yourself.”

“Not my dwarf,” protested Bilbo.

Thranduil chuckled and gave Bilbo’s shoulder a squeeze. Once he was done trying to turn his stomach inside out, Thranduil helped him sit. “Let’s get you on a cot so you can rest,” he said, urging Bilbo to stand.

“I’m staying with Thorin,” protested Bilbo, as he broke free of the hands holding him. “I have to watch over him.” He stumbled to Thorin’s cot and carefully lay down by his side, curling up in the space under Thorin’s arm against his side.

Oin watched as Bilbo tucked himself up against Thorin’s side, head resting on the dwarf’s bicep. “Best leave him for now,” he said. “When our burglar sets his mind to something, there is no stopping him.” He looked up, meeting Thranduil’s eye. “He’s not hurting Thorin by laying there.”

The elf nodded and looked down at the burglar curled against the dwarf king’s side. “Not your dwarf indeed,” he murmured. Thranduil looked up again making a motion towards his ear. Oin raised his ear trumpet. “King Thorin should sleep for a few hours,” he explained. “I put him into a deep sleep. When he wakes, he will be in great pain. The hobbit has a concussion and should be watched closely.”

Oin nodded and moved to cover them with a blanket before putting aside the things Thorin and Bilbo would need when they woke.

**_______________________________**

Tauriel slipped into the healing tent, her eyes searching restlessly for Kili or Fili. One end of the large tent had blankets stretched across it creating a smaller room. She checked every cot carefully before edging near the blanket wall. Her fingers almost touched a blanket to pull it aside, when Thranduil pushed it out of the way stepping into the main area of the tent.

She stepped out of the way but he stopped before her. When he didn’t move, she glanced up to meet his gaze. “I have done what I can,” he said his voice neutral. She nodded her thanks. “I am-“ he started to say then closed his mouth. “I believe we might need to speak when you are ready,” he said his eyes turning to the dark-haired dwarf. She followed his gaze before looking back at him. He was studying her the look on his face relaxed and perhaps even curious. She nodded again. “They know to expect you,” he told her inclining his head and pressing his palm to his chest before gesturing her into the curtained area.

She stepped into the smaller area and was surprised to find the dwarf seated next to Fili’s bed smiling at her. “He said you would come,” he explained with a small nod. “I’m Ori,” he said introducing himself.

She nodded back. “Tauriel,” she replied.

“Kili told us,” he told her with a gentle smile. She stared at the dwarf eyebrows raised in surprise. “He kind of won’t shut up when he’s excited,” he explained.

She smiled faintly at the description. She’d seen how animated he could be when he was excited, one of the many things that drew her to him. Even when imprisoned in Thranduil’s prison, he’d been animated when she sat and talked to him. His cheerful, easy-going manner was so different from the strict, regimented life she led as the Captain of Thranduil’s guard. Basking in his presence had been like being warmed by a sun she’d never known existed. That he was handsome also played a part in her attraction to him. Dark hair worn loose and close-cropped beard that was so different from the elves. To her he was also incredibly strong. She might be taller, but his sturdy dwarven build made him immensely strong and unlike an elf, he was covered with rippling muscles. The first time they’d shared an embrace, she’d stared in wonder where her hands rested feeling the play of muscle even through his tunic.

She stood over him, studying him as he slept. He was pale and his face was twisted into a grimace. “He’s in pain,” she said turning to the dwarf by Fili’s side.

“Oin left tea and an ointment for that,” he said pointing to the small table between the brother’s cots. “If he isn’t awake enough to drink, try the ointment,” he offered.

She nodded and cast about for a seat, seeing no other stools or chairs. She sat gingerly on the edge of his cot fearing she would tip it. He was so much heavier despite his shorter stature that the cot didn’t even threaten to tip. Her hand on his bare shoulder could feel the dense strength of him as she gently rubbed a hand over his upper arm. He shifted, but didn’t wake. She leaned down to kiss his cheek the stiff hair of his beard tickling her chin. “I’m here,” she murmured against his skin and pressed another kiss to his temple.

The small jar of ointment smelled of herbs. A curious sniff almost made her sneeze. The smell was strong. Tugging the sheet down she encountered a small cloth draped over Kili’s stomach. She peeked under to find the jagged red wound. Carefully she folded the small cloth over so she could work. Her eyes studied the wound made but a few hours before by the spiked handle of a filthy orc axe. Bright metal stitches shone in the lamp light in contrast to the dark red of the wound edges. Whoever had sewn him up had a neat hand evidenced by the tiny, even stitches that sealed the large irregular wound.

She didn’t know how long she stared at the wound before she shook herself free of it. Stitched up now it looked like it shouldn’t have almost ended his life. The weapon used had gotten a lucky strike and had nicked one of the blood vessels that carried the fast moving blood from the heart. She’d felt the fast spurts from the tiny nick when she and Thranduil healed it. It was strange to think something so small could end a person’s life. A curious finger traced a large circle around the wound site.

Kili shifted under her hand. The pain was keeping him from deep sleep and if she’d wanted to, she could have called him back to wakefulness. Realizing she was prolonging his pain, she shifted her focus to the small jar grasped in her other hand. A generous glob on two fingers was spread liberally and carefully over his wound until it was fully coated. The greasy residue was wiped off on the small cloth that she replaced over his wound before tugging the sheet back up to his shoulder. The ointment should start to work soon if not immediately.

**_______________________________**

It had been two days since the battle. Fili and Kili were both awake and eating a little. Neither Thorin nor Bilbo had awakened yet. Thorin was kept dosed and sleeping so his wound would have time to heal. The hobbit hadn’t woken since he’d curled up next to Thorin and his not waking was beginning to worry his healers greatly. An extended sleep after a head injury was bad. Sometimes patients just didn’t wake up. The elven healers said the fact that he’d been awake after he was wounded was a good thing and not to worry yet. If he still hadn’t awakened in a couple of days when they let Thorin wake up, then there would be cause for concern.

The dead were being burned and people were getting on with surviving. A dwarven work crew had spent the past two days hard at work to repair the main gate of Erebor. Winter would be coming hard and if they couldn’t seal the mountain, everyone who was staying in Erebor would freeze when the coldest days arrived.

**_______________________________**

Howling was the first and only warning when the attack came. A small pack of orcs mounted on wargs swept over Raven Hill toward the elven encampment. They didn’t stop to fight the sentries or the dwarves camped around the elven tents. They made it almost to the edge of the healing tents before elven archers brought them down. After that, the watch was doubled and archers were placed around the perimeter.

Bard, Thranduil, Balin and Dain were in Fili’s tent discussing the attack. Kili was asleep on the cot next to Fili and Dwalin stood outside the tent as guard. “They went straight for the healers tents,” said Bard.

“Are they after the wounded?” asked Dain.

Thranduil shook his head. “The Dwarf King killed Azog. I would think they were after vengeance against the one who killed him,” he explained.

“That’s pure suicide to run into a camp bristling with dwarven steel and elven bows,” said Dain earning him a raised eyebrow at the inclusive mention of elves.

“Perhaps it was a group of stragglers,” suggested Bard.

“This might be true,” agreed Balin. “Only time will tell.”

“How soon can Thorin be moved into Erebor?” asked Fili.

“His health is still precarious,” said Thranduil. “At least a couple more days so his wound has time to heal a little. Your brother needs just as long.”

“We could start moving others into the mountain,” suggested Balin.

Fili shook his head. “Bard, when we move into the mountain, Erebor will offer space to your people for the winter if you would like, but for now it is safer for all who can’t be moved to be surrounded by more people than less.”

Bard and Dain both nodded in agreement. “My people would appreciate being able to shelter within the mountain for the winter,” he agreed with a nod. “Are you sure Thorin will agree when he awakes.”

Fili grew quiet as he gave his answer some thought. “I know my Uncle did not give the best impression when he denied you at the wall, but he was not well.” Fili shifted so he was sitting upright in his bed. “After Smaug died, my Uncle suffered from gold sickness or dragon sickness as some call it. He shook off the sickness and came back to himself during the battle. My Uncle is a strong and fair dwarf. I have known him to be such my entire life. He will not deny your people a safe place for winter or for as long as you have need of it. Please do not judge him only as he was while sick. Give him a chance to show you who he really is,” asked Fili.

Bard gave a tentative nod. “I am willing to wait and see,” he admitted. “If he is no longer affected by this madness.”

“I knew Thorin as a dwarfling before the dragon came. He and I have our own issues to work through, but before when Erebor thrived, Thorin was a kind and fair dwarfling with a taste for mischief,” he told them an amused smile on his face. “He once stole a prized horse and rode it back to Erebor, then made me buy it back,” said Thranduil with an amused smile.

“He stole your horse and made you buy it back?” asked Bard clearly surprised.

“Yes, when I came to Erebor to lodge a complaint, the young prince set its price at one gold piece claiming the nag wasn’t worth a silver piece more,” he explained a faint smile at the memory curling his mouth. “All the while standing boldly in front of his grandfather. The tattoo’s on his chest are the runes for fierceness I was told. He was given them after he stole the horse out of my stable right out from under the guard’s nose.”

“I thought you disliked dwarves?” said Bard.

“Elves and dwarves have often been at odds for ages, but I have come to realize that I was not innocent when Smaug came and took their home. My disagreement,” he said his mouth twitching at the mildness of the word. “Was with his grandfather and not him. I was unfair and he was rightfully angry with me. I have not treated him as his own person, but an extension of that wretched dwarf Thror.”

“That is my great grandfather you speak of,” said Fili his voice hard.

“I know young prince,” he said. “When Thror first ruled, he was just and fair, but the sickness that took him made him cruel and thoughtless. The dwarf he was at the end of his life, was not who I first knew him as.”

“He’s right laddie,” added Balin. “Thorin has protected you from the truth of what Thror had become, but he was fully taken by the gold sickness. Imagine how Thorin was but much, much worse.”

Fili’s gaze fell to his lap and he nodded once. “Do we have anything else to discuss?”

“What Thorin promised the people of Lake-town,” said Balin.

“His promises will be honored. The gems of Lasgalen will be returned to their rightful owner as well. I will see that it is done,” said Fili firmly. “Dain will any of your dwarves remain here? We could use as many crafters as can be spared.”

“Oh aye,” said Dain. “And more are clamoring to come. We have issues with too many crafters and not enough to buy their goods. Ye’ll have crafters coming out of your ears soon.”

“This won’t cause problems for our kin in the Iron Hills?” asked Fili.

“No laddie,” said Dain. “Idle hands make for bored or antsy dwarves. The inns and taverns will thank ye when the number of brawls the watch has to break up goes down.”

Fili laughed. “I see. Well then, we are ready to welcome all who would like to join us.”

“We’re low on food laddie,” said Balin.

“I know Balin, but Thorin has already taken steps to deal with that,” said Fili looking smug.

“And how did he do that when he is unconscious?” asked Bard.

“He set plans in motion months ago,” he said. “He had his sister, who is currently ruling Ered Luin, negotiate with the Shire on his behalf. The first caravans should be arriving within the month,” explained Fili.

“What if your quest to retake the mountain had not been successful,” asked Thranduil.

“He thought of that too,” said Fili. “The caravans are headed for the Iron Hills to go to our cousin Dain. If I send scouts with word that Erebor has been reclaimed, then most of the caravans will come here, but some will go on to the Iron Hills.”

“You’re sending halflings to the Iron Hills?” asked Dain clearly confused.

Fili laughed. “No cousin,” he said. “No hobbits.” He emphasized the proper word. “Left the shire that I know of. We’re only sending food and what other supplies the hobbits wanted to offer in trade.”

“That’s very generous of you,” commended Dain with a bow. “We’ll enjoy the extra rations this winter for sure!”

“What did you offer in trade? The hobbit in your party did not seem interested in gold,” said Thranduil.

“That is between the Shire and my mother,” said Fili with a knowing smile.

“Fine keep your secrets Young Princeling,” chided Thranduil.

“With the food and supplies King Thranduil was kind enough to send and the caravan from the Shire, we should be able to survive the winter,” said Bard with a firm nod.

“We don’t know how much the Shire can spare, but if we’re careful all should make it through the winter just fine,” said Balin.

“I can start my men gathering what they can find and we’ll see if any equipment for fishing survived in Lake-town,” said Bard.

“Those dwarves who are not doing repairs can hunt,” added Fili. “Does anyone have anything else?” No one had anything to add. “I would like to get some sleep then,” he told them and started the slow process of lying down without jostling his leg too much.

“Rest well,” said Bard over his shoulder as he left the tent.

“Do you need anything?” asked Balin as he moved to help Fili get comfortable.

Fili shook his head. “Leave some water for later,” he said as he pulled his blankets up and closed his eyes. “Wake me if Bilbo wakes up.”

“If he wakes,” said Balin. “I’ll notify you.”

**_______________________________**

Dori sat his watch in Thorin’s tent. The only seat was a rickety chair they dragged in and he struggled to get comfortable on it. Outside the camp was still and quiet except for the occasional sound of footsteps as a guard made his rounds. It was still a couple of hours before dawn and Dori was starting to feel the pull of sleep. A soft sound of distress caught his attention as Bilbo shifted restlessly on his cot again.

Dori watched as Thorin’s hand twitched and he grunted as he fought the sedative. Before leaving for the night, Oin moved Bilbo to the cot next to Thorin. Now that they were separated, Thorin fought the sedative they were using to keep him under and Bilbo suffered nightmares, where before he’d rested quietly at Thorin’s side. Dori didn’t understand why being together made them calmer, but he knew what he observed.

Like now, Thorin was starting to groan in pain as he fought the sedative and Bilbo was shifting as if he couldn’t get comfortable. They weren’t getting rest like this. He’d watched their distress for long enough. Dori scooped up Bilbo and tucked him back against Thorin’s side, where he’d been before. Thorin sighed and turned his head toward the hobbit and Bilbo relaxed into deeper sleep. He stood staring at them thoughtfully. He was sure he was seeing something significant, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Giving a fatalistic shrug, he retook his seat to finish out his watch.

Oin would give him a hard time when he returned, but they wouldn’t heal if they weren’t resting. He observed the pair of them a smile on his face. They were adorable together. The whole company had watched them dance around each other since the eagles left them on the carrock. The betting pools had grown large as the entire company waited for one of them to make a move. Maddeningly they’d done no more than spend time together. True it was most of their free time, but it appeared to be platonic as they only sat shoulder to shoulder and talked.

**_______________________________**

Dori was dozing off, when something touching his hand startled him. Thorin was awake and rather than wake Bilbo by speaking, he’d reached for Dori to get his attention. “Thirsty,” he whispered.

Dori smiled and helped him drink some water only giving him little sips so he wouldn’t be sick. “Tell me,” Thorin started to say before swallowing thickly. “Tell me of the battle.” He curled his arm, weaving his fingers through Bilbo’s hair. Dori smiled at the telling gesture.

“Bilbo is here with you. He was in the other cot, but you both rest better when he’s curled up beside you,” said Dori.

Thorin nodded. “He is fine here.”

“He has a concussion and hasn’t awakened in three days,” explained Dori.

“He will wake,” said Thorin sounding very sure of himself. “Don’t underestimate the hobbit.”

Dori nodded in agreement. “Are you in pain?”

“Yes,” said Thorin as he shifted a little. “I would hear of the battle before you.” He swallowed down a grimace. “Before you give me something for the pain.” Dori nodded his understanding. “The company?” he asked.

“All are accounted for,” said Dori. “Fili and Kili are in the next tent. Fili has a broken leg and a wound in his side. Kili has a wound in his gut, but Oin says they are both doing well,” added Dori quickly.

“Fili is truly alive?” he asked eyes hopeful.

Dori nodded quickly. “The blade glanced off his ribs and he broke his leg when they dropped him,” he explained. “But he is well enough to stand in your stead until you are well.”

Thorin let out a soft sigh. “It will do him good.”

“He is holding talks with the men,” Dori informed him. “And the elves,” he added much softer.

Thorin nodded but didn’t comment. “The others?”

Dori grinned when he didn’t get angry about the elves. Everyone knew how Thorin felt about the pointy-eared tree shaggers as he called them. “No one else had major injuries,” he explained. “They’re all working to get the gate fixed and hunt for food.”

“Caravans should be here soon,” whispered Thorin.

“Fili sent word to the caravans so they would come here,” said Dori with a smile. “Great forethought on your part to negotiate with the Shire for goods.”

“Bilbo said they had food to trade,” he explained. “Made an agreement in the spring so they could grow more as he suggested.”

“What did you trade?” asked Dori. “Fili isn’t saying.”

Thorin’s mouth tipped up in an amused smile. “Two dwarf garrisons on their eastern border,” he said. “They are not warriors and we.” He started to cough and wrapped his free hand around his stomach. “We are not farmers. I am ready to sleep now.”

“Yes of course,” he said and held a cup to Thorin’s mouth. “The tea tastes awful, but it will help with the pain.” His pain must have been bad, because he drank the entire cup without complaint.

“Help me turn,” he asked moving his free arm across his chest toward Bilbo. Dori helped him turn without twisting his stomach and tucked an extra blanket behind him to prop him up. Thorin laid his free arm over Bilbo and tangled his fingers in the back of the hobbits shirt. “Thank you,” he murmured as his eyes fell closed.

“I’ll be right back,” said Dori. “I need to get more tea.” Thorin didn’t answer.

The soft rustle of fabric as Dori slipped through the tent flap made Bilbo shift. “I’m awake,” he whispered.

“I know,” answered Thorin. “I felt your fingers rubbing against my side.”

“It hurts to open my eyes,” complained Bilbo his voice still a whisper.

“Said you have a concussion.” Thorin curled his hand combing his fingers through Bilbo’s curls.

“You okay?”

Thorin hummed an affirmative. “I hurt a lot,” he admitted.

“How bad is your wound?”

“I didn’t ask about my wound.”

“Idiot dwarf,” snorted Bilbo.

“I am still alive,” said Thorin. “That is all that matters. Go back to sleep.”

“Awfully bossy,” he teased.

“Shhh,” Thorin hushed him. “Sleep.”

**_______________________________**

Later that night there was another attack. Three orcs managed to sneak into camp and made it quite close to Thorin’s tent before being dispatched by guards. Three dwarves were killed in the attack. The guard around the King’s tent was doubled again.

Thorin and Bilbo laid in the bed, listening to the fighting outside. “I don’t even have my sword,” whispered Bilbo.

Thorin shrugged. “We’re in the middle of an army of dwarves. There is no safer place.”

“You’re not concerned about orcs in camp?” questioned Bilbo.

Thorin shook his head. “Sleep Bilbo,” said Thorin as he rubbed his fingers gently over Bilbo’s scalp.

“We’ll be okay?”

“You’re safe,” assured Thorin. “Sleep.”

**_______________________________**

Thorin was awake when Balin came to check on him in the morning. “Thorin,” he said warmly. “I was coming to see how you’re doing.” He peered at the hobbit curled against Thorin’s chest. “If Bilbo doesn’t wake up soon they fear he never will.”

“He was awake last night,” Thorin informed him.

“He was?” asked Balin. “Dori never said.”

“Dori was out of the tent at the time.”

Balin looked skeptical. “I came to tell you that we will be moving you into the mountain later this afternoon,” he said. “The Kings rooms are being cleaned as we speak.”

Thorin shook his head. “I don’t want Thror’s old rooms. My father’s rooms will be fine.”

“But the King’s rooms,” Balin started to say.

“No Balin,” he said firmly. “His rooms are ridiculous. Everything is gilt or gem covered. Bilbo would never stay it that,” he said.

Balin nodded. “I can have all of that removed,” he offered.

“That would be fine,” agreed Thorin. “I remember the balcony they say my grandmother used to keep a garden on. That would work, but not until the room is stripped down.”

“Perhaps you should show the rooms to Bilbo first?” asked Balin.

“I don’t want to be in those rooms as they are now either,” admitted Thorin.

“I’ll make sure to get the other rooms cleaned then,” said Balin. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Are you in pain?”

“A little, but it is bearable right now,” he said. “Moving makes it worse.”

“I will return with some soup,” said Balin as he turned to leave.

“Bring some for Bilbo too,” called Thorin.

Balin turned back to say he wasn’t awake, to find the hobbit’s head was turned and watching him over his shoulder. “Soup for two coming up.”

“I’ll have to move when we eat you know,” said Bilbo.

“If you must,” sighed Thorin.

“You sound like you’re feeling better today.”

“As long as I don’t move, I’m almost pain free,” said Thorin.

“And when I move it’s going to hurt,” said Bilbo.

“Very much so I fear,” admitted Thorin.

“If I don’t move soon,” said Bilbo. “I’m going to piss all over the both of us,” he said in a harsh desperate whisper.

Thorin snorted. “If it doesn’t make my stomach hurt, I’m all for it,”

“Ridiculous dwarf!” he scolded.

“Your ridiculous dwarf,” said Thorin his voice warm and amused.

“Yes, I suppose you are.”

“You suppose?” teased Thorin with a roguish grin. “You agreed to let me court you.”

Bilbo froze looking very much like a startled deer. “I did no such thing,” he argued. “I think I would remember that.”

The grin faded to be replaced with a look of fearful shock. “You accepted my courting gift,” insisted Thorin.

“What courting gift?” asked Bilbo eyebrows climbing in question.

“The mithril shirt.”

“That was a courting gift?” asked Bilbo clearly confused. “I didn’t know.”

“Yes! What did you think it was?” Thorin’s voice rose as his cheeks turned pink.

“You said it was to honor our friendship!”

“Lovers should be friends!” insisted Thorin his face growing red.

“But we’re not lovers,” said Bilbo clearly confused. Thorin’s face darkened, his mouth twisting into an angry scowl. “Wait!” hissed Bilbo. “Just wait a moment before you lose your temper.”

“You said no,” Thorin reminded him.

“I did not say No! I said I didn’t know that was what it was,” clarified Bilbo.

Thorin grew still, his eyes locked with Bilbo’s “You truly didn’t understand?” he asked a desperate hope lighting his eyes.

Bilbo shook his head. “I didn’t understand that it was a request to court me, but now that I do, I accept,” he told him. Thorin’s eyebrows rose in silent question. Bilbo nodded.

Thorin carefully leaned forward to press his forehead against Bilbo’s. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Bilbo nodded. “I think we’ve uncovered a problem though,” said Bilbo.

“What problem?” Thorin leaned back his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I don’t always know exactly what you are talking about,” he said. “For instance if I handed you a daisy, what would that mean to you?”

“A daisy is a type of flower?”

“My point exactly,” said Bilbo. “If you grew up as a hobbit you would know it meant innocence and when given to another innocent friendship. Young hobbits often give them as signs of innocent friendship. It is a childish thing.”

Thorin looked thoughtful for a moment. “You want to be treated like a dwarfling?” he teased.

“No!” hissed Bilbo. “I am not a child.”

“Calm down,” said Thorin as he brushed a kiss over Bilbo’s forehead. “I was only teasing. What you said makes sense.” Bilbo relaxed and leaned carefully into Thorin. “We don’t share the same experiences,” he clarified.

“Yes!” Bilbo agreed.

Thorin made a soft unspoken sound of agreement. “Ask for clarification,” added Thorin.

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and closed it again. Before he could over think it, he leaned in to slant his lips over Thorin’s mouth. The dwarf froze in surprise before kissing him back, brushing his mouth gently over Bilbo’s.

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed. “I can’t.”

“I know,” Bilbo whispered back. “I only wanted a kiss.”

Thorin’s mouth tipped up into a smile before pressing another soft kiss to Bilbo’s lips. “I like that.” The sound of a throat clearing made Bilbo startle and jostle Thorin making his stomach hurt. “No wiggling,” he groaned as he moved to cover his wound.

“I’m sorry,” hissed Bilbo. “He startled me.” He turned to give Balin an accusing look.

“Sorry laddie,” said Balin as he set their soups on the small table. “Let me hold Thorin still so you can move Bilbo.” He moved to hold Thorin steady so Bilbo could move away without pushing against the dwarf’s stomach. “Are you even supposed to be laying on your side?” he scolded.

“I was fine until you startled Bilbo,” he growled.

“Lay back slowly,” directed Balin as he helped Thorin move. Bilbo managed to move without falling and sat on the other cot with his head in his hands.

“Are you okay?” Thorin tried to get a look at his face, but couldn’t move enough to see it. “Bilbo?”

“I still feel nauseous and the light hurts my eyes,” he said.

“Oin said it will get better,” said Balin. “You need to rest.”

“I have been resting,” growled Bilbo.

Balin moved around to the cot Bilbo where was seated. “Let’s get you something to eat. I bet you’ll feel better if you fill your belly,” he said as he fluffed up a pillow for the hobbit. Bilbo sat back easily enough and accepted the bowl Balin offered him.

He helped Thorin sit up a little and slid pillows behind him. He couldn’t sit up high enough to feed himself so Balin did it. Thorin glared at him the whole time as Bilbo snickered at his being ridiculous. “You have to eat!” he’d admonished the dwarf.

After they ate, Oin arrived to check Thorin’s wound. He poked and prodded until he was satisfied. “It’s starting to drain a bit,” he said as he gently palpated around the wound.

Thorin hissed in pain at the gentle touch. “Stop it already!” he growled.

Oin shared a look with Bilbo. “I think infection is setting in. Who knows what was on that foul orcs blade,” said Oin as he put his hand on Thorin’s head. “You’re starting to feel warm.”

“What do we do?” asked Bilbo who had moved to sit on the edge of Thorin’s cot.

“I have some salves that help,” said Oin. “I will confer with the elven healers to see if they have anything else.” He set his ear trumpet down and applied a thick salve to Thorin’s stitched wound.

The dwarf lay with his eyes closed against the pain and his hands fisted in the blankets. Bilbo gently stroked his hair as Oin bandaged the wound. “He’s almost done,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to Thorin’s temple. When he looked up, Oin was watching them and grinning.

“What?” questioned Bilbo.

Oin shook his head. “Nothing laddie, just good to see you two stopped dancing around each other,” he said as he stood up from his place by the cot. “Get him some more tea so he sleeps,” he called over his shoulder as he turned to leave. “We’re moving him in an hour and it probably won’t be pleasant for him with the way he’s hurting.”

Once Oin had slipped out of the tent, Bilbo turned to sit so he was facing Thorin. “We’ll be safe inside Erebor soon,” he said as he brushed hair off Thorin’s cheek. Thorin was watching him an unreadable emotion in his eyes. “What?” asked Bilbo.

“If something happens, will you go back to the Shire?”

“If something happens?” parroted Bilbo looking confused for a moment. “Is this because he said there is infection in the wound? Are you planning on dying on me you ridiculous dwarf?” teased Bilbo.

Thorin shook his head, then looked away. “It could happen,” he murmured.

“And I could fall down the stairs and break my neck,” countered Bilbo. “Nothing in life is certain, you know that.” A hand on his cheek turned Thorin back so he was looking at him. He leaned down so he was almost face to face with the dwarf. “Do what the healers tell you and get better,” he insisted staring Thorin in the eye. A moment later, the dwarf gave a small nod. “I need to get you more tea so you’re ready when they move you,” he said as he pulled back, his hand sliding down to Thorin’s chest.

His hand covered Bilbo’s before he could move it. “Stay with me?” he asked.

Bilbo understood he wasn’t asking him not to get tea. “I’ll be by your side,” he reassured the dwarf. Thorin nodded and let go of his hand.


	2. Into the Mountain

The move into Erebor was mostly uneventful. Bilbo doubled the dose in Thorin’s tea and he slept the entire trip. Once they began the move, Bilbo only tripped and fell once. After that, Dwalin carried him the rest of the way in spite of his protests.

“I am not an invalid,” growled Bilbo as he wiggled and tried to get away.

Dwalin laughed and wrapped his arms tighter around the struggling hobbit. “You’re not getting down so stop your wriggling Bilbo,” Dwalin informed him.

“I can walk!” the hobbit bellowed as he tried to hit Dwalin in the jaw. He was not a child and there was the matter of his dignity.

Dwalin dodged the blow and then shifted so he could hold Bilbo’s free arm too. “Thorin would never forgive me if something happened to you so stop fussing!” he scolded. “Once we get into Erebor, you could easily fall off a bridge. Smaug ripped the railings off so you’re not walking!” he said his tone indicating it was not up for negotiation.

Bilbo finally gave up and lay quietly in Dwalin’s arms as he followed behind Thorin’s cot as it was carried into the mountain. Once they were inside the mountain, he looked around curiously. It was darker inside and he could finally open his eyes instead of squinting. Already he could see where work had been started. Rubble and bodies were cleared from the main gate area. Repairs were started. It looked like a work site and not a disaster site. The dwarves had been very busy the past few days.

Men and dwarves walked the large open area they were currently crossing. A couple men he recognized nodded to him when they saw him looking. When Dwalin started up the ramps to a higher level, he looked over the dwarfs shoulder to see Kili and Fili being carried in behind him. Looking ahead, he could see the dwarves carrying Thorin just disappearing over the top of the ramp. Topping the ramp, he noted the large, thick doors as they passed through them into what looked to be a communal area with smaller doors on three sides. Thorin was taken into a room to the left and Dwalin followed. He looked back over the dwarf’s shoulder to see Fili and Kili being taken to a door just to the left of the one they passed through.

The room Dwalin entered looked like a large sitting room with multiple doors leading to other rooms. Thorin was taken in a door opposite the main door and Dwalin followed behind. The new room was a very large bedroom with the largest bed Bilbo had ever seen. The soft light provided by the large fireplace was soothing to Bilbo’s eyes. He couldn’t make out much of the details in the room in the dim light though.

Dwalin set Bilbo in a large chair. “Stay here until I get Thorin in the bed,” he commanded and turned to help with moving the King. The dwarves, who carried Thorin, were setting his cot down. Dwalin plus the four dwarves, who had carried him, carefully lifted Thorin and maneuvered him onto the bed. Once they had him situated to Dwalin’s satisfaction, he turned back to Bilbo.

“I can walk!” snarled Bilbo as he tried to avoid Dwalin’s grasp. Moving fast made him feel dizzy and he started to fall.

Strong hands caught him and pulled him upright. “Are you done?” Dwalin asked as he scooped the hobbit up and clasped him against his chest. Bilbo cradled his head and moaned. “Stop being an ass, so you can heal,” chided the dwarf as he carried him to the far side of the bed. “You act more like Thorin every day,” he teased. Bilbo was placed gently on the bed. Hands held him up until he could sit on his own. “That door is the bathroom,” said Dwalin pointing to the door on his side of the bed. “You may explore as you want in this suite of rooms,” he said. “But get someone to go with you if you leave these rooms.”

“I can get around fine when you’re not trying to grab me Dwalin,” he countered.

“Bilbo Baggins stop being such an obstinate ass. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to act like Thorin at his worst,” he scolded. “We’re here to help each other and you need to accept that you are in need of help for a little while.”

Bilbo huffed out a sigh as he shrank in on himself. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I wasn’t thinking about people wanting to help.” He noticed the other dwarves had already left.

Dwalin patted him on the shoulder. “Oin will be here soon to check on Thorin,” he said. “I’ll have food and drink sent up from the kitchen.”

Dwalin turned to leave but Bilbo reached out to stop him. “Thank you,” he said.

The dwarf turned to look at him. “You make Thorin happy,” he said. “He deserves to be happy.” The playful swat the dwarf hit his shoulder with pushed him gently over on to his side. “Stay sharp Bilbo,” he teased. Bilbo lay on the bed, chuckling to himself as Dwalin let himself out.

Once they were alone, Bilbo crawled up to check on Thorin. He was growing warm. Sweat was beading on his forehead though his face looked pale even in the dim light. Realizing there was nothing he could do until Oin arrived he curled up next to the dwarf, his hand resting on Thorin’s bicep as he closed his eyes intending just to rest for a few minutes.

**_______________________________**

Balin was talking to Dain when Dwalin arrived. "Cousin!" Dain greeted him with a hearty hug and a smack on the back. "How've ya been?"

"Better now," answer Dwalin as he stepped away from the grasping dwarf. He'd never been comfortable with how tactile the red-haired dwarf could be.

"Good fight!" he said cheerfully. "Your brother here was just telling me, you could use some help holding the mountain until your people arrive from Ered Luin."

Dwalin looked to Balin, who nodded. "We number just fourteen," he said proudly.

"That crazy bastard really did it with only fourteen of ya?" asked Dain. Dwalin shook his head. They'd had this conversation before.

"Thirteen dwarves and a hobbit," clarified Balin.

"I always knew my cousin was a wee bit crazy. His whole family is, but I think he's the craziest one of the bunch," he said with a laugh. "That sister of his is a real beauty, but she's just as crazy as her lump of a brother. I kissed her once and she liked to have knocked my head clean off if I hadn't ducked in time. Was totally worth it though. She's a looker that one. If I wasn't married to my dear Esula, I'd have asked for her hand in marriage."

Balin smiled though it didn't reach his eyes. "We welcome any help the Iron Hills can lend us," he said.

"I'll give you two hundred of my best men to help guard the mountain," he declared.

Balin was opening his mouth to speak when another dwarf walked up. He was dressed as distinctively as Dain. His armor had red and black markings on it that formed an impressive pattern. The tattoo on his face covered almost the entire left side in intricate dark blue markings. The right side of his face sported a long scar that looked like someone had once hit him with an axe that almost took his eye. His beard was long and decorated with countless war beads. His most notable feature was the triple mohawks he sported. The rest of his head was kept carefully shaved except in the back where the three rows of hair met . The hair was grown long there and was braided into multiple intricate braids decorated with even more war beads.

"My Lord," he said stopping beside Dain with bowed head. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there is a problem in the princes rooms."

Dain turned to face the newcomer. "What sort of problem?"

"There is an elf with the young princes and she refuses to leave," he said. "We've removed the other elves, but she won't leave. Swears she's staying by the princes side."

Dain turned to Balin clearly unsure how he should answer. "The King has given permission for her to stay at his side," he said. "She healed the young prince of a wound created by a fouled orc arrow before we arrived in Erebor. Why are they removing the healers from their patients?"

The new dwarf looked shocked. "The princes consort with elves?" he asked clearly shocked.

Balin's eyes narrowed. "Erebor held treaties with the men and elves before the dragon came," he reminded the other dwarf.

"Holding a trading treaty to take their gold for cheap trinkets is not the same as consorting with them," he snarled.

Dwalin stepped to his brother's side, both battle axes in his hands. "Is there a problem?" he said his voice deadly calm.

Dain put a hand on the other dwarf's chest to stop him taking a step. "There's no problem cousin," he said firmly turning to look at the new dwarf. "Strog was merely concerned for the young princes safety. You've assured us he's as safe as a bairn." His hand shoved the other dwarf back. "Isn't that right Strog?" he questioned though it sounded more like a command.

The new dwarf glared at Dwalin for a moment, before bowing toward Dain. "Yes my lord," he said stiffly before turning and leaving.

Dain watched him go before turning back to the others. "I'll be offering you a hundred and fifty warriors. I'll not have any that he hand picked staying to keep Erebor safe," he offered. "I had not realized that my second in command was so bigotted. Don't get me wrong, the tree-shaggers make my teeth itch, but even I see they have their place in Middle Earth."

"Thank you cousin," said Balin sincerely. "There will be enough troubles without inviting more in through the front door."

"I'll see the healers are let back in too," said Dain. "I can't imagine why they were removing them."

**_______________________________**

The feel of a hand caressing his head woke him. Thick fingers carded through his hair. “You awake?” whispered Thorin.

Bilbo hummed an affirmative as he stretched. Lifting himself up on one arm, he saw Thorin was looking at him. His eyes were fever bright and sweat beaded on his skin. “How do you feel?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin shook his head and his eyes blinked slowly. “I have felt better my burglar,” he admitted. “My gut feels like it is on fire.”

Bilbo reached for him, his hand hovering over Thorin’s bandaged wound. “Has Oin been here to see you?”

He gave him a small nod. “He and Gandalf have both been here.”

“Can I get you anything?” he asked as he scooted closer.

“Water,” he said, his mouth turning up in a small smile. “The tea leaves a bad taste.”

Bilbo carefully reached across to the bedside table for the water glass. He helped Thorin take a few sips.

“Lay next to me?” Thorin asked struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” protested Bilbo.

“Won’t hurt me,” countered Thorin. “It’s comforting,” he said his voice barely a whisper.

How could he deny him comfort? “I’ll be right here,” said Bilbo as he curled up against Thorin’s side a hand resting on the side of his chest and a knee lying across his thighs.

**_______________________________**

Movement in the bed woke him. Thorin was writhing in pain. His hands were clutching his wound and he was curled up trying to endure the agony quietly.

“Thorin?”

“Bilbo!” the dwarf hissed. “Tried not to wake you.” His voice sounded strained.

“Ridiculous dwarf,” growled Bilbo as he scrambled around Thorin so he could see. “You’re in pain you stupid fool!” He whispered harshly as he tried to move Thorin’s hand so he could see the wound.

“Don’t touch it,” cried Thorin as he held his hands over the area to protect it.

“I just need to see it not touch it,” scolded Bilbo.

“I need Oin,” Thorin insisted.

Bilbo sat up and looked at the door. “I have no idea where he even is.” He turned back to Thorin and bent down near his face. “I need you to trust me,” he said firmly. “I will be as gentle as I can.”

Thorin stared at him for a long moment before nodding and pulling his hands back. Bilbo smiled at him and brushed his fingers over his cheek. He took a blade from the table where Oin was storing his supplies and used it to cut carefully through the bandages. When he peeled back the thick layers of cloth they were stuck to the wound with dried pus. Thorin’s wound was infected and oozing.

Bilbo leaned in closer to get a better look only to pull back suddenly. “It smells foul,” he murmured. “I can see the infection just under the skin where it’s started to heal.” Thorin who had been watching him intently closed his eyes as his shoulders sagged. This wasn’t good news.

When Bilbo held his hand near the wound, he could feel the heat coming from the red inflamed flesh. The entire area was swollen and pus was oozing from between the stitches. “I saw a cow with a wound like this once. The animal doctor had to drain the infection,” he said. “You're not much different so I think that a lot of your pain is the pressure build up inside the wound.”

Thorin was watching him again, but he didn’t answer. “I think cutting a stitch or two would allow it to open up and drain,” said Bilbo as he continued to exam the wound. When Thorin didn’t comment, he turned his attention to the dwarf. “Do you want me to try to find Oin?” Thorin shook his head. “If we relieve the pressure the pain should lessen.” He give a quick nod.

“I will be right back,” said Bilbo as he headed into the bathing room. He grabbed a few thick clothes and headed back.

Carefully, he laid two of the clothes in front of Thorin. Once he was satisfied he could deal with the mess, he carefully took the small blade and cut gently at a stitch. Thorin grunted at the light contact, but didn’t cry out. It took a few gentle passes to cut the tough material. Once the stitch was cut, the wound didn’t open. The skin had started to grow together. “The wound isn’t opening. I might need to make a small cut.”

“Do it quick,” said Thorin through gritted teeth.

Bilbo nodded and leaned in closer. He cut another stitch, but the wound still didn’t drain. He glanced up at Thorin, who had his eyes shut and his face twisted into a pained grimace. There was no choice now and he didn’t hesitate. The small blade was razor sharp and slid into Thorin’s skin without resistance.

He cut where the angry red scar of the previous wound had started to heal. Thorin grunted in pain, but otherwise didn’t react.

When Bilbo pulled the knife out, pus and blood started to leak from the small incision. He grabbed up the towel to wipe up the emission. When the flow started to slow down, he gently pushed next to the wound, teasing more of the thick fluid out. “Sorry if that hurts,” said Bilbo as he gently pushed out all of the infection he could.

Thorin shook his head. “You were right,” he said. “It still hurts, but after the pressure was released it hurts so much less. Now the pain is only annoying.”

Bilbo kept draining the wound until no more fluid could be squeezed out. Once he was satisfied, he wiped up the pus and threw the rags in the fireplace. A quick trip into the bathroom yielded clean water in a shallow bowl.

After he was done cleaning the area, he applied a thick coating of wound salve to the stitches and left the wound unbound. “There are no more bandages,” he explained as he put more clothes under Thorin’s stomach to catch any drainage.

Thorin blinked sleepily at him. “I can sleep now,” he murmured. Bilbo leaned down to press a kiss to the dwarf’s cheek, but Thorin turned so their lips met.

“I prefer pigs,” whispered Thorin.

Bilbo blinked slowly. “What?” he asked brow furrowing in confusion.

“I prefer pigs,” he repeated. “If you must compare me to a farm animal, I prefer pigs to cows,” he explained.

It took Bilbo a minute to catch on to Thorin’s train of thought but when he did, his eyes narrowed with annoyed disbelief. The eyes that looked back at him sparkled with mischief. “You are a horrible, ridiculous, silly, preposterous, evil dwarf,” he growled.

One side of Thorin’s mouth tipped up in a self-deprecating smile. “And you are adorable,” he countered his voice drawn with exhaustion.

“How can you joke right now?” whispered Bilbo reprovingly.

“Peace Bilbo,” he soothed. “I am still alive. You looked as if you bore the weight of the mountain on your shoulders.”

Bilbo’s posturing deflated and he looked chastised. “It’s just I worry,” he defended.

Thorin gave a soft sound of acknowledgement. “Thank you ghivashel,” he said his hand moving to cover Bilbo’s. “Come lay with me.”

Bilbo was all too happy to curl up behind Thorin and go back to sleep.

**_______________________________**

When next they woke, Oin was talking to Gandalf about finding Thorin with cut stitches and pus oozing down his stomach.

“I did not leave him like this last night!” growled Oin. He glared up at the wizard.

“Then how did that wound come open?” demanded Gandalf.

“I did it,” said Bilbo who had moved to sit behind Thorin. “He was in a lot of pain from the pressure.”

Oin nodded and pointed at Bilbo. “He’s a clever hobbit,” he said and put down his ear trumpet.

“You have no medical training Bilbo,” scolded Gandalf. “What if it had caused him great harm?”

He glared at the wizard. “I am not an idiot!” he insisted. Thorin reached behind him, searching for his hand. “I made a very small incision and gently worked out the infection. I didn’t stab him in the gut and hope for the best!”

“Now, now,” soothed the wizard. “I did not accuse you of that!’

“No,” agreed Bilbo. “You implied I was stupid. Even I can understand that not having that poison in his body is a good thing.”

“I am sorry if you feel I implied you are stupid, because I do not think that,” he qualified. “I merely asked what you would have done if it caused him great harm!” He looked at Bilbo expectantly, but he just glared back. Gandalf threw up his hands. “Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves and hobbits,” he muttered as he left the room.

Oin watched him go and turned back to Bilbo. “I would have lanced it this morning, so you did the right thing,” he said before he bent down to clean the wound and see if he could squeeze any more infection from it. “It’s always better if a patient can rest. The stress from pain hinders the healing.”

Bilbo leaned over to see that Thorin was watching Oin. A hand on the dwarf’s head found him a little cooler. At Bilbo’s touch, Thorin turned to meet his gaze the seriousness on his face softening when he looked at the hobbit.

Oin prodded the wound a little too hard making Thorin gasp in pain. “Easy laddie,” he soothed. “Almost done. This is a little less red I think.” His words after that were muttered too low to be understood. Once he was done, he cleaned the area and applied a heavy layer of wound salve. The healer stood wiping his hands on a clean cloth. “I’ll have the elven healer look at it this morning,” he told them as he gathered up his satchel of medicines. “I put more tea leaves here,” he said pointing to the small brown jar. “Have him drink some every couple of hours. I need to go check on the boys,” he told them as he turned to go.

“Wait!” yelled Bilbo loud enough to be heard by the mostly deaf healer.

Oin turned around expectantly his ear horn at the ready. “How are Fili and Kili?” Bilbo asked.

“They will live, but it will take time for them to heal,” he said. “Fili is filling in for Thorin while he’s healing.”

“Fili is well enough to act as regent?”

Oin nodded. “Kili has an infection, but he wakes and eats a little.”

“Is it possible to see them?”

Oin nodded. “After I take care of them.” Then he was gone.

“They’re doing well,” he said when he turned back to Thorin. Thorin gave a small nod and let his eyes fall closed his mouth drawing into a thin line as he struggled with the pain.

Bilbo frowned as he considered what to do. “I’ll make you more tea so you can try to rest,” he said but Thorin didn’t answer.

**_______________________________**

Thorin was asleep when Dwalin came to get Bilbo. The burly dwarf moved around the bed looking at him expectantly, he opened his mouth to protest but one look silenced him and he allowed himself to be picked up. “I’m taking you to see Kili and Fili,” murmured Dwalin.

Great determination kept him from opening his eyes to see if anyone saw the indignity of him being carried like a babe in arms. The sound of soft conversation disabused him of his not being observed, though he could discern no change in the conversation so perhaps they didn’t notice. A shift in his position had him opening his eyes to find he was being placed on a chair between the prince’s cots. When he looked up, both were looking at him.

“Bilbo,” murmured Kili lifting a hand toward the hobbit.

Bilbo quickly took the dwarfs hand in his own. “I’m glad you’re awake,” he said.

Kili gave a small nod and swallowed thickly which was followed by a grimace of pain. “I don’t feel so well,” he pointed out.

Bilbo chuckled. “No. I suppose you don’t,” he agreed. “Are you listening to the healers?”

Another small nod. “Lord Elrond has been caring for me,” he said as his eyes blinked slowly. “Sorry,” he said giving Bilbo’s hand a weak squeeze. “Tired,” he mumbled as his eyes slid closed and he drifted into a boneless sleep. The hand he held became heavy as Kili relaxed. Bilbo placed it back on his chest with a small pat. His eyes lingered on the sleeping prince. He was pale, but not without a little color in his cheeks. His face was relaxed and not stiff with pain so he was able to sleep peacefully. He brushed the backs of his fingers over Kili’s cheek and over his short beard.

“He’ll sleep for a while now,” said Fili drawing his attention. The golden-haired prince pushed himself to sit up, shoving pillows behind himself so he could lean comfortably on the wall.

“How are you?” asked Bilbo as his eyes devoured the prince. “You look well considering.”

“I’m much better,” he agreed. “Though I’m heartily tired of being stuck in bed.”

That made Bilbo chuckle. Neither prince was known for sitting still. “I imagine so,” he agreed.

“How is Uncle?”

Bilbo looked toward the wall in the direction where Thorin slept. “He is sleeping right now,” he said. “He’s had a fever come and go twice and they’re treating him for an infection in his wound.”

Fili was looking at Kili. “Elrond said the orc weapons might have been tainted,” he explained. “That way they could ensure the most pain and suffering.” He looked up sharply meeting Bilbo’s eyes. “How can any thinking being be so cruel?” he asked earnestly.

Bilbo grimaced at the question. “I couldn’t even begin to understand,” he said. “They say they were corrupted by Melkor.”

“Why would a being with the power of creation want to create such evil?”

“The stories say he could not create his own people so he stole from Eru and corrupted his creations. He was as powerful as your creator and mine so I imagine that corruption is very strong. As to why? Jealousy I suppose.”

Fili was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Kili is doing much better,” he informed Bilbo. “They wouldn’t tell me anything about Uncle other than he was alive and in the next room. Has he been awake?”

Bilbo smiled at the memory. “He’s been awake and arguing with everyone, me included,” he said.

Fili’s look became speculative. “Did he tell you about the mithril shirt?” he asked boldly.

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up at the direct question. “Yes,” he said fidgeting in his seat. “He explained about the shirt.”

“Did you accept?” he asked. “We watched when he gave the shirt and you gave no indication that you accepted or declined. We all thought it was because you didn't understand.”

“You’re just full of questions aren’t you?” said Bilbo with a deprecating laugh.

Fili’s eyes dropped to his lap and his hands as he stroked one finger over the edge his blanket. “When I was looking down at Uncle,” he started to say. “When Azog was holding me over the edge of the tower, I realized how foolish and stupid I’d been to separate from Kili and go looking for the orcs by myself. He and I are always doing something foolish and stupid according to Uncle.” He swallowed and the finger of his other hand began stroking the blanket in counterpoint to its partner. “I need to grow up and stop acting like everything is a game. I almost died that day and all I could think was I don’t know how long it’s been since I told Uncle that I loved him. He’s been the only father I’ve known for most of my life. I barely remember my real father.” He stopped and swallowed thickly before speaking with determination. “I wanted to let you know about the shirt if he didn’t tell you. There may be no more tomorrows so I’m not going to let things just happen. You both deserve to be happy.” He looked up his eyes meeting Bilbo’s. “I’ve seen how happy you’ve made Uncle since the Carrock. I know nothing happened between you,” he said making a gesture. “Yet,” he added with a small smirk. “But I don’t want him to wait anymore. Tomorrow isn’t a given.”

Bilbo held his gaze though he had to look away first from the earnestness in Fili’s face. This battle had changed him more than any of the others he’d been in before. The prince’s near death had changed him profoundly. Bilbo could only hope it would be for the better. He was no longer embarrassed by the questions, because Fili was right. Tomorrow wasn’t a given.

He looked up meeting Fili’s gaze boldly and gave him a nod. “He explained, for once, in plain language what the shirt meant and I accepted after a small misunderstanding. I kissed your Uncle and it was very nice.” Fili wrinkled his nose at that but didn’t say anything. “Your Uncle is doing better. He has a sword wound here and it’s infected, but he’s responding well to treatments,” he said running a finger just under his ribs and a little to the left. “Thorin,” he started to say and had to stop to swallow around the hard lump in his throat. “He almost died on Ravenhill, but Legolas was there and he healed him, with my help.”

“You can heal like an elf?” asked Fili surprise clear on his face.

Bilbo shook his head. “No. From what I remember, I think he just used me. It's hard to explain,” he said holding his hands up. “He put my hands over the wound and put his hands over mine. I felt like part of me I was slipping inside your Uncle. It was the oddest sensation, but the bleeding stopped,” he admitted his face twisting into a grimace. “Your Uncle stilled and I thought the healing had been too late, but he passed out. I have a concussion so I’m not very clear on all the details,” he admitted looking up at Fili again.

“I didn’t know they could use someone else to help heal,” murmured Fili.

“I didn’t either,” he admitted. “But by how drained Legolas looked after, if he hadn’t then Thorin would have died, because he couldn’t have done it himself.”

A cheeky grin found its way to Fili’s mouth. “Does Uncle know an elf saved him?”

Bilbo smirked and shook his head. “Two elves, Thranduil helped once he was in the healing tent.”

“Lord Elrond has been treating Kili and I’ll bet he’s been to see Uncle too. That’s three elves,” said Fili now looking amused. “Oh he’s going to lose his mind,” he said with a smirk.

“At least he’s alive to lose it,” said Bilbo with a firm nod.

They both sat quietly lost in thought. Fili was the first to break the silence. “It was very smart of Uncle to arrange trade with the Shire so we would have supplies,” he said. “How did he know the Shire had food to trade?”

“We discussed it when we stopped in Bree,” admitted Bilbo. “The raven from your mother had just arrived and he was looking fretful. I was standing with him and Balin when he made the comment that they all couldn’t be farmers like hobbits,” he said. “After some very obtuse discussion that was very unenlightening I realized that he was concerned with having enough food in Ered Luin for the next winter as they were still on half rations even though it was spring. We talked about buying food from the Shire and lack of gold in Ered Luin. Hobbits don’t need gold. Then there was a long discussion about what they could trade, most of which hobbits don’t need. Eventually we settled on a full time blacksmith and garrisons on our eastern borders. We’ve had orc raids there and if the Brandywine freezes, then the wolves come into the Shire.”

“How much food will that be?” he asked curiously.

“As much as you want. Keep the shire in good cooking and gardening tools and keep them safe and let their love of gardening and farming do the rest. We have fields that lie fallow because we can’t use all they produce. We are very good at farming, but not at protecting ourselves.”

“You made the trade agreement together in Bree?” he said curiously.

"We drew up the rough draft for the trade agreement," Bilbo clarified. "He sent that to his sister and another copy to the Thain. They finalized the details."

Fili nodded. “I remember the raven and I remember you and Uncle and Balin arguing one night.”

“It was a spirited discussion,” corrected Bilbo. Fili looked at him an eyebrow raised in challenge. “Okay I was discussing, your Uncle was shooting down everything I said and scoffing that anyone would trade so much food for a few soldiers.”

“It does seem rather incredible,” admitted Fili.

“You underestimate a hobbits desire not to be warrior like,” he reminded the prince.

“You do okay,” he said.

“I am a Took,” said Bilbo firmly. “I have always been considered odd.”

“Well you fit in well with dwarves. I hope you and Uncle become bonded,” he said and gave him a small smile and a nod.

A feeling of distress had him looking sharply in Thorin’s direction. It was odd, but he was sure it was Thorin and not just some odd reaction of his. He stared at the wall until Fili spoke. “Everything okay?” he asked curiously.

Bilbo continued to stare at the wall for a moment before shaking his head. “I think your Uncle is awake and in distress or having a nightmare,” he said.

“You can hear him from here?”

An absent shake of his head. “No I can feel it,” he admitted turning to look at Fili. “It’s the oddest thing. I can feel he’s upset or hurting.” He pushed up from his chair taking a moment to make sure he was steady on his feet. “I will return to your Uncle,” he said with a nod. “It’s probably my imagination, but I need to go check.” He didn’t see the shocked look on Fili’s face.

It was slow going, but he made it to the door before having to stop. Days spent in bed had made him weaker than he realized. It took a minute for the dizziness to subside. He opened the door to find Dwalin’s hand reaching for the handle. “Thorin needs you,” he said before unceremoniously scooping him up and turning towards the Kings room.

The door was open so he strode right in. Oin and Lord Elrond were standing beside the bed. At the sound of Dwalin’s footsteps, Thorin raised his head enough to see who was coming in.

“Bilbo,” he breathed a hand raising in silent entreaty. Dwalin carried him around to the side of the bed and set him down next to Thorin. The dwarf’s hand found his as he rolled over to face Thorin. “You were gone when I woke,” he accused.

“None of that,” scolded Bilbo assiduously ignoring those watching them. “I went to see Fili and Kili.”

Thorin nodded. “How are they?”

“I spoke to both of them. Kili doesn’t feel well, but he is healing. Fili was mostly annoyed at having to stay in bed.”

Thorin gave a slight smile at the news. “I don’t feel well either my burglar,” he admitted his voice little more than a whisper.

Bilbo looked up expectantly. “What now?” he asked.

Elrond stepped closer. “We think something was left in the wound by the blade,” he admitted. “Others are having trouble with infections and sickness from blade wounds.”

“Fili mentioned he thought the blades were poisoned,” he said.

Elrond nodded. “We’re exploring different poison curatives to see if they help. The usual remedies that work on Orc poisons are having no effect.”

Bilbo lifted the sheet to find Thorin’s wound was once again bandaged. “And his wound?”

“Thorin is doing much better than those we think were poisoned,” said Elrond. “Fili was stabbed with the same weapon and he has suffered no signs of poisoning. This may be merely an infection, though that doesn’t make it any less dangerous. We just treat the two differently.”

Bilbo looked down to find Thorin had turned his head toward him though he lay with his eyes closed. “If there is nothing else, please let him rest,” he insisted.

“Of course,” said Elrond with a regal nod. “We will return when it’s time to change the dressing. He’s just had a cup of tea so won’t need any for a while.”

Oin moved to follow. “I’ll send up some soup,” he yelled over his shoulder. Dwalin gave him a nod before closing the door.

“You ridiculous dwarf,” he scolded fondly as he slipped his hand free. A quick feel revealed a fever was starting again.

“Tell me if you will leave,” murmured Thorin.

“So you are awake.” Bilbo pressed a kiss to his forehead. “A kiss to make it better as my mother always said.” He leaned back so he could see Thorin’s face.

Blue eyes were watching him. Thorin tapped his cheek. “Hurts here,” he said. Bilbo dutifully kissed his cheek.

“And here.” The finger tapped his bottom lip. Bilbo grinned and brushed a kiss over Thorin’s mouth. “It hurts a lot,” he murmured.

Bilbo pulled back a smirk twisting his mouth. “It does?” he asked. Thorin hummed an affirmative. “I’ll make it better,” he declared leaning in to press chaste kisses to Thorin’s mouth. “Feel better?”

Thorin sighed. “I am calm now,” he admitted. “I woke and you were gone. Those two vultures were clawing at my insides.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” he scoffed.

“You were not here and they were hurting me,” complained Thorin.

“They were looking at your wound,” countered Bilbo.

“It hurt,” he whined pathetically.

“I think I have a wee dwarfling in bed with me and not a mighty King,” teased Bilbo rubbing his nose against Thorins.

Blue eyes considered him from under lowered lids. “Dwarfling?” he challenged his voice soft and menacing. Bilbo nodded and grinned daringly back at him. Thorin’s eyes slid shut and he nodded after a moment. “I suppose I feel like an ill dwarfling today,” he acceded. “Does that mean you will mother me?” One eye cracked open to look at him. Bilbo returned the look with narrowed eyes. Thorin chuckled and closed his eye. “Peace Bilbo,” he murmured as he brought a hand up to pull Bilbo down beside him. “I am at the end of my energy and need to sleep.”

Bilbo laid down as requested and curled against the dwarf’s side careful not to jostle him. “You are a silly dwarf,” he said as he rubbed his cheek against the soft hair on Thorin’s chest.

“Your silly dwarf.” Was the last thing Thorin said his voice barely above a whisper as the medicine dragged him back to sleep.

**_______________________________**

Bilbo stared at the dwarf sleeping next to him. The past hours had been a harrowing experience. Thorin’s fever spiked and he became delirious. He was trapped in memories or nightmares, Bilbo couldn’t tell which. The dwarf struggled mightily against foes only he could see and they all feared he would tear his stitches.

Gloin, Dwalin and Balin had all worked to hold him still while Bilbo mopped his head with a cool cloth. The wound was growing redder and the pressure from the infection made it bulge. Oin worked to cut the stitches and clean the wound. There was something in the wound for it to be infected so badly he said. If they didn’t get it out the infection would get in his blood and kill him.

Thorin’s insides were healing, but there were small particles of what looked like metal and wood debris in the wound. Even though he was dosed heavily with pain medicine, Thorin woke when Oin started to clean the wound. His screams frightened Bilbo. He’d never heard so much pain in one voice.

Oin yelled at him to get something in Thorin’s mouth before he bit his tongue. Only a clean rag was close. He’d tried to talk to the dwarf to distract him, but he was too far gone in the pain. Thorin fought the three holding him down lifting those who held his arms off the bed several times.

His strength and pain frightened Bilbo. He feared Thorin would injure himself more or wear himself out making it harder for him to heal. He’d known Thorin was large for a dwarf only matched by Dwalin in size, but he hadn’t realized how powerful he was until Gloin struggled to hold his arm and almost had to sit on it to keep it from moving.

The arrival of Thranduil finally eased Thorin’s pain. The Elf King pushed the dwarf into a deep sleep so Oin could quickly finish his work. Once the wound was properly cleaned and stitched, Thranduil began an elven healing chant. When he was done, Thorin’s wound was no longer an angry red and his temperature began to go down.

Bilbo sat quietly watching Thorin as he slept. Thankfully, his rest was much quieter than before. Balin arrived to help him strip Thorin down to his small clothes and wipe him off removing the dried sweat so he’d feel better. Thorin slept soundly through his entire bath. Balin left Bilbo with some lunch and tea for the dwarf if he woke up.

Balin was also kind enough to leave him a couple of books and candles that could sit on clever little shelves above the bed. He was surprised when he realized Balin brought him a book on dwarven customs and another about dwarven history. He stacked the extra pillows on his side and settle back to read the book he’d chosen.

Settling with the book against his raised legs, he began to read. He only needed one hand to turn the pages so the other ended up exploring what he could of Thorin. What had started out with merely resting a hand on the dwarf’s bicep turned into his fingers randomly exploring every bit of skin they could reach. Curious fingers rubbed over scars and carded through chest hair. His eyes were glued to the book, but his hand was never still.

His hand moved upward fingers gently combing and tugging on the dwarf’s hair whether it was his beard or his silver and midnight brown locks. Fingers slid down braids to twist the beads at the end only to return and comb through unbraided hair. Rounded ears unlike his own pointed ones were stroked and the heavy ear clasps explored.

His hands moved downward. His fingers traced the outline of defined pectoral muscles and ribs until they encountered the edge of bandages and then they reversed direction. Clever fingers rubbed gently over a collarbone and down a well-muscled arm to trace over the tendons on the back of a large hand and down over thick fingers. Sensitive fingers worried at the sharp edges of torn nails before tracing upward again.

Bilbo didn’t notice the blue eyes watching him as he read, his fingers gently tracing and retracing their way over the expanse of bronze dwarven skin. He didn’t hear the sigh as the dwarf let his eyes close and drifted back to sleep.

He read until he was tired. Setting the book aside, he curled against Thorin’s side. Even in his sleep, Thorin turned his head so he faced the hobbit.

**_______________________________**

Fili watched Tauriel as she gently combed her hands through Kili’s hair. She’d come in after the healers had left for the night. The look on her face was thoughtful as she worked at Kili’s hair. “Why doesn’t he wear braids like the other dwarves?” she asked turning to meet his gaze.

His lips turned up in a small smile. “I didn’t realize you knew I was awake,” he admitted. “I apologize for staring.”

She nodded. “I have been,” she started to say then stopped looking down at her lap where her hands were now nervously fidgeting. “I mean I was part of the guard for a hundred years,” she said softly. “I have spent most of my life on patrol I think,” she admitted glancing at him briefly. “I spend most of my time at high alert. Your eyes on me were noticed, but I did not mind. I can feel your curiosity.”

He nodded. “You and my brother,” he said simply.

She looked at Kili, her hands moving to smooth his hair again. “I don’t know if I can explain it,” she replied softly. “From the first moment I met his gaze I felt drawn to him as if an invisible cord drew us together.” Her brow furrowed in confusion as she struggled to find words. “I don’t understand it myself,” she explained. “It is just something I feel.”

He nodded accepting her words. He and his brother had always had a close relationship and when he’d asked Kili, he’d given much the same answer. “He said the braids got in the way of his bow,” he answered her first question. “Though he’ll be taking a braid now.”

She turned to him her expression curious. “Why now?” she asked.

He smiled in amusement at her ignorance though he got the feeling she wasn't as ignorant as she made out. “You will braid it for him of course after you make him a bead,” he said.

She stared at him boldly before turning away as a blush colored her cheeks. “I don’t think your Uncle-“ she started to say.

“My Uncle,” Fili interrupted. “Already knows. He is not happy about it, but he knows. I don’t know how my Amad will react though. I’m not sure Uncle won’t try to interfere either,” he admitted. “Though he has no reason to question Kili’s choices considering who he’s courting.”

Tauriel leaned toward him her face eager. “King Thorin is courting someone?” she asked.

Fili’s smile was kind as he nodded. “Thorin and Bilbo made eyes at each other for last leg of our journey. We’ve had bets going as to who would ask who first,” he admitted.

“You bet on the King courting the hobbit?” she asked, her hand covering her mouth. She sounded scandalized at the idea.

“We’re dwarves,” said Fili. “We bet on everything.”

“Will there be bets on Kili and I?”

Fili chuckled. “There are already,” he admitted. “Though there have been bets on Kili taking a shine to an elf since Rivendell when he admitted he found them attractive.” She gave him an odd look. “Don’t get the wrong idea. He didn’t even talk to the elf maids when we were in Rivendell,” he soothed. “One night at dinner, he made the comment that he didn’t find them bad looking and everyone teased him. After that, everyone watched him watch the elf maids, though he didn’t approach any of them. Several approached him though. My brother’s always caught the eye of the lasses.”

She looked at Kili. “I do find him handsome in a rugged sort of way,” she admitted. When she looked back, Fili was looking at her solemnly.

“I ask that you don’t play with his heart,” he said his voice soft. “If he’s not the one you want, end it quickly.”

She turned back to Kili moving to place her palm over his heart. “When first I saw him, it stole my breath away. There were spiders bearing down on us from front and back and I couldn’t make myself turn away,” she said her voice soft. “I would not turn away now. I have already defied my King to follow him.”

"That is pretty definitive," agreed Fili.

She nodded. "I give him a bead you said?"

"He will forge you a bead also," explained Fili. "It is worn on a special braid to show you are courting. If you marry, you use the same bead, but the braid changes."

"I do not know how to use a forge," she said her face clouding with doubt.

"The bead does not have to be metal," he clarified. "I have seen them made of almost anything from wood, glass, ceramic and all the metals. The important thing is that it signifies you. If you design it, you can have someone else craft it."

"How do I signify myself?"

"You will have to decide," he said. "The bead my father gave my mother has the runes for steadfastness and strength and a mining pick. It is made of silver and has gem chips embedded in it. My father was a miner. I've seen everything from flowers to weapons. My mother’s bead to my father had the Durin sigil and a rune for devotion. It was crafted of mithril. She keeps it in her treasure box."

"Will a dwarven crafter help me if I design a bead?"

"I am a jeweler and I would be happy to craft the bead you will give my brother," he said with a nod.

"You would do that for me?" she asked clearly shocked.

"And my brother," he added.

**_______________________________**

The next couple of days went slowly for Bilbo. Thorin’s fever returned and Oin had to drain his wound again, but it never became distended like before and the amount of fluid that the healer expelled was much less. Thorin was restless and sweaty but he never became delirious. Bilbo bathed him with cool water and wiped his forehead dry of sweat. When he wasn’t tending to the dwarf, he read the books Balin brought.

When Thorin did wake, he was in so much pain it made Bilbo want to cry in sympathy. They fed him as much tea as they could get down him trying to control his pain. They managed to get some thin soup into him, but the pain was so bad he was nauseous most of the time and he couldn’t keep it down.

When Bilbo woke on the third day, Thorin was sleeping more soundly and he was only slightly warm. His fever had broken during the night. It was the sign Oin was looking for. It meant they were beating the infection. Bilbo pressed a kiss to Thorin’s temple. When he pulled back, Thorin's mouth was curled into a small smile. “That is a good way to wake up,” he murmured but didn’t open his eyes.

“Are you feeling any better?” Bilbo asked as he leaned over Thorin carefully.

The dwarfed made a sound that might have been an affirmative. “Everything still hurts, but I don’t feel like I am going to die.”

“That would make me very cross,” complained Bilbo.

“I wouldn’t want to make you cross,” joked Thorin his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

**_______________________________**

A snippet of conversation caught his attention as he explored the hidden passage. "Kill the she-elf and remove her influence from the young prince," said an unidentified dwarf.

Nori stopped at the listening hole and leaned out, but not enough that he could be seen if anyone looked up. "Why not kill the prince? There are two of them," said a second dwarf.

"I won't be a kin killer. Driving them out of Erebor will be enough. They can return to scrabbling in the dirt in Ered Luin. They can do no harm there and they're slowly dying out," said the first voice. "We won't have to lift a finger and everything will take care of itself."

"You just want the gold," hissed a third unidentified dwarf.

"We all have plenty of gold," said the first voice. "Can't eat it and can't spend it after I'm dead. I don't want to see the dwarven bloodlines sullied with half-breed bastards."

"I heard they have a caravan of food arriving from Ered Luin," said the second dwarf.

"Aye, he knows about that too. That's how he's going to drive them out. Get rid of the food. Get rid of the dwarves. You have your orders you worthless curs. If you can't do the job, he'll find others who can and you won't get what you were promised," said a fourth dwarf.

"As long as we get what we were promised," said the first dwarf.

"You know his word is good. You'll get your share if you do your jobs correctly," said the fourth dwarf. "Go study your assignments and be ready when he calls for you. Go now!" Nori looked over the edge to see the four dwarves filing out of the small dead end alcove. He memorized as many details of each as he could, though he was sure he'd be able to identify them when he heard their voices again. Now he needed to find Dwalin.


	3. The Beginning of Knowing

The next day Nori sidled up to Dwalin, keeping to the shadows. Dwalin didn’t act as if he heard the sneaky dwarf, but he cocked his head as he listened to the whispered words he spoke.

“You’re sure?” he murmured.

“I heard it with my own ears,” insisted Nori.

“I do not doubt you,” countered Dwalin. “Just asking for confirmation.”

“I don’t know how soon it will be,” he red-haired dwarf said. “But when that caravan comes in for sure. What it’s carrying needs to be under lock and key. Destroying our food supply would be a quick way to destroy our fledgling kingdom.”

“Agreed,” said Dwalin. “See what else you can find out. I’ll alert the others. Are they all Dain’s men?”

“So far it’s all dwarves from the officers who command the goat cavalry,” he stated.

“Dain is not part of this?”

“I haven’t seen Dain in any of these meetings and they don’t talk as if he is directing their actions.”

“Very good,” said Dwalin. “Go now. I’ll find Balin.” The red-haired dwarf slipped into the shadows and disappeared. Dwalin stood where he was until he was sure Nori had slipped away before turning to find his brother. His brother had taken an office located at the base of the ramps leading up into the royal wing making him easy to locate.

He stepped into the office looking around to see if anyone else was there before closing the door and locking it. “We have a problem brother,” he said his scarred face drawn in a grimace.

Balin looked up from his papers giving his brother his full attention. “We always have problems brother,” he countered. Dwalin didn’t smile at his humor meaning it was serious. “What kind of problem?”

“Tainted crown and broken sword,” he growled.

“Already?” breathed Balin. “I didn’t expect them to start that nonsense yet. I guess not having empty bellies gave them time to make mischief. Do we know who wears the tainted crown?”

“Tauriel for being at Kili’s side,” he said.

“And the broken sword?”

“The caravan and the food it’s carrying.”

“Of course,” said Balin. “Destroy our food supply and destroy what Thorin is building here.”

“It’s only a small faction of Dain’s people,” added Dwalin. “That might mean we can contain it before it gets out of hand.”

“We’ll have to or we’ll lose Erebor again.”

“We need to tell Thorin as soon as possible.”

“We will,” agreed Balin. “Give me a few minutes to finish up these papers.”

Dwalin took a seat across the desk from his brother as he hurried to finish the figures he was working with. A few minutes later Balin finished and looked up meeting his brother’s eye. “Let’s go give Thorin the good news.”

A knock sounded on the door. Softly Bilbo called them into the room. Balin and Dwalin entered with eyes on him and the sleeping dwarf. He took them both in noting their grim countenances. This wasn't something he wanted to try to handle. Thorin was asleep, but he woke as soon as Bilbo laid a hand on his shoulder. “Bilbo?”

“Dwalin and Balin are here,” he said.

Thorin gestured them closer, his eyes taking them in. “What happened?”

Dwalin gestured for Balin to speak. “Tainted crown and broken sword,” he said simply.

Thorin hissed in displeasure. “Who and what?”

“Kili and the caravan,” answered Balin.

“What is tainted crown and broken sword?” asked Bilbo moving so he was kneeling behind Thorin.

Thorin turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Tainted crown is assassination and broken sword is a physical target like the treasury or the incoming caravan,” he explained.

“They want to assassinate Kili?” growled Bilbo.

“Probably Tauriel and not Kili,” clarified Dwalin.

“Dain’s dwarves?” asked Thorin.

Balin nodded. “Nori said it was the commanders of the goat cavalry.”

“Dain isn’t involved?”

Balin shook his head. “It doesn’t look like he’s involved.”

Dwalin grabbed a chair and put it by his brother before taking the other for himself. “We need to figure out how to counter this threat. The dwarves with the caravan are from Ered Luin so will be loyal to Thorin,” he pointed out as he spoke to Bilbo. “We only need to counter their targeting of Kili until the caravan gets here.”

“Then we need to secure the supplies the caravan is bringing. If they destroy or taint the food it will defeat us before we even begin,” added Dwalin.

“Are we sure that more of Dain’s forces aren’t involved in this plot?” asked Thorin. Dwalin and Balin shared a look before both shook their heads.

"Still we need to protect the supplies," said Bilbo.

“The company is too few to guard things all the time. I need them to do the tasks I assigned them,” said Balin. “I can ask Dain if he can supply more troops for protection if you’re comfortable telling him about this."

"Can we trust them?" questioned Dwalin.

“Dain has his hands full with the Iron Mountains,” said Thorin. “I don’t think he wants my throne. He’s always told me that he doesn’t envy me my rule of all the dwarf clans.”

“Do you trust him?” asked Dwalin.

Thorin grew thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “I trust my cousin,” said Thorin. “We’ve always had a rivalry, but that doesn’t make him a traitor, just an idiot.”

“Bard,” said Bilbo.

Thorin turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Ask Bard for men to use as guards,” he explained.

Thorin turned back to look at Dwalin and Balin who were both considering Bilbo. “It might work,” said Balin. “Bard says his people look to Erebor and her king,” he reminded them. “We know they hold no allegiance to Dain or the Iron Hills.” He looked at his brother. “It would foster trust between dwarves and men if we allow them to help us secure Erebor.”

“Aye,” said Thorin. “Erebor and Dale were as close as brothers and our people’s thrived side by side.”

Balin nodded. “I’ll find Bard and ask him to speak to you,” he said. “I’ll tell him you need to discuss housing accommodations with him.”

Dwalin shifted in his chair. “Where do we secure the caravan when it arrives?”

“There are locked rooms near the kitchen,” said Balin. “Everyone knows where the food is stored though.”

“Would they taint the food or destroy it?” asked Bilbo.

“If they taint the food,” said Dwalin “It would take longer to detect and be harder to trace. I think they want everyone cleared out of Erebor quickly so they can either take gold or put Dain on the throne. So I would think they would choose to destroy it, probably by burning it.”

“Use a decoy?” asked Bilbo.

“What sort of decoy?” asked Dwalin.

“Put all the food and supplies in the kitchen storage rooms, but when everyone is sleeping, move it somewhere else.”

“They’ll see the rooms are empty as soon as they break into them though,” said Balin.

“Put something in the place of the food that we can afford to lose.”

“Like what?” asked Thorin.

“There have to be things in the mountain that after a hundred and fifty plus years are no good that could be used to fill a space. Leave a little food though so it looks like it’s all food.”

Dwalin looked at Balin and grinned. “He’s a devious little thing isn’t he?”

Balin shared his grin. “Nori has been sniffing around every part of Erebor,” he said. “I would bet a gold coin he’s seen something we can use as bait.”

“If Nori finds out anything else, let me know,” said Thorin. “He can come to me too.”

“We’ll go get started with countering this threat,” said Balin standing and bowing at Thorin who scowled at him. He turned to go, gathering up his brother with a glance.

Once they’d let themselves out Bilbo turned to lean back against the wall. “They want to kill Tauriel because she’s an elf,” he said his voice angry.

Thorin slowly turned over before slowly moving to lay next to Bilbo, laying his head on the hobbit’s thigh and sliding one large hand under his knee. “I’ve dealt with assassination attempts most of my life,” admitted Thorin.

“Seriously?” growled Bilbo his hand moving to gently stroke over Thorin’s hair.

Thorin closed his eyes and savored the feel of Bilbo’s hands on him. “It comes with the crown,” he murmured.

“And you still want to wear that crown?”

“I was born to lead my people,” he said. “I was trained from birth to sit on the throne. I’ve lead my people for so long I can’t imagine doing anything else. It has its good points and its bad points.”

“I hope there are more good points than bad.”

Thorin hummed in agreement. His fingers slid under the hem of Bilbo’s short pants to rub absently at the soft skin behind his knee. “I have reclaimed my home and I have found my life’s partner,” he said his voice soft with sleep. “It’s all been worth it.”

“Sentimental dwarf,” murmured Bilbo as gentle fingers caressed over Thorin’s ear before combing through his hair.

_______________________________

An hour later a soft knock on the door woke Thorin and Bilbo who had dozed off. “Come in,” called Bilbo.

Dwalin stuck his head in the door, grinning at the sight of them cuddled up on the bed. He stepped into the room followed closely by Bard. The bowman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at their cozy position, but he didn’t say anything.

“Bard’s here,” said Bilbo as his hand resumed combing through Thorin’s thick locks.

“Don’t care,” groused Thorin. “I don’t hurt at the moment and I’m not moving.”

Dwalin chuckled and motioned for Bard to move to the side of the bed where Thorin could see him. The taller man dutifully stepped around the bed and stood waiting. Thorin opened his eyes, looking at Bard for a moment before closing his eyes with a tired sigh.

“I can come back later your Majesty,” said Bard his amusement warm in his voice.

Thorin raised a hand making a motion of denial. “Bilbo tell him,” he commanded rubbing his cheek against the thigh he was using as a pillow before growing still.

Bilbo waited until Dwalin brought a chair around for the man, nodding at it so he’d take a seat. “He is well?” he asked eyes darting from Thorin’s face to Bilbo’s and back again.

“As well as expected,” said Bilbo. “The infection is clearing and he is healing.” Bard grinned at the Dwarf King who looked to be sound asleep snuggled into the hobbit’s lap. “He is seldom pain free,” explained Bilbo. “Excuse his lack of propriety.”

“I would not begrudge our king relief from pain while he is healing,” he said with a solemn nod.

“That is why you were called here,” admitted Bilbo. “We have been made aware of a situation that is forming in Erebor.” He motioned to Dwalin, who moved to the other side of the bed so he could see Bard.

“There is a plot to assassinate the elf that Kili has taken a liking too and to either contaminate or destroy the food that the caravan is bringing,” the bald dwarf said.

The shock on the man’s face was genuine as he looked from Thorin to Bilbo and back to Dwalin. “How may the men of Dale assist the dwarves of Erebor?” he asked.

Bilbo’s breath left in a noisy sigh. Reassured of the loyalty of the men of Dale was a weight off his shoulders. “Our company only numbers myself and thirteen dwarves,” he explained. “It seems that only a handful of the dwarves that came with Dain are instigating these actions, but it’s hard to be one hundred percent sure.”

“You need guards?” asked Bard.

“And eyes and ears,” said Dwalin. “The men of Dale stand to lose if our company is over thrown and Dain is put on the throne.”

“Is Dain behind this?”

Bilbo shook his head. “We don’t believe so,” he said. “In a few days’ time, the caravan will arrive with dwarves from Ered Luin who are loyal to Thorin. We only need to prevent them enacting their plans until then.”

“If you have men you trust,” said Dwalin. “We could use them to help guard the royal wing and the caravan when it arrives.”

“I can give you at least forty men who I trust to be good guards,” said Bard. “I will set the women to watching. We are all grateful for the safe place to winter and the full bellies. Lake-town was very poor and many walked the edge of starvation. They won’t forget who improved their lives.”

“Even if we brought the dragon?” asked Bilbo.

“It’s true that there are bad feelings because of Smaug, but the truth is the dragon would have awoken sooner or later,” admitted Bard. “We would have suffered his presence eventually.”

“We need to find a reason why I suddenly need human guards,” said Dwalin.

“Theft from the treasury?” offered Bilbo.

“As if anyone would notice a few coins missing from that ridiculous mountain of gold,” scoffed Dwalin.

“What if I requested it so we were ready to guard Dale in the spring?” asked Bard. “I could request training for men who have never held a weapon,” he said. “They do actually need training if it’s available.”

Thorin raised a hand making a motion that might have meant acknowledgement. “They are welcome to train alongside our dwarves,” he said. “We would not leave Dale unprotected when you return there. It might not be spring you realize? You must repair before you move in.” He opened his eyes and met Bard’s gaze. “There is enough room in Erebor that even if the entirety of Ered Luin arrived tomorrow, there would still be room for the men of Dale.” He shifted and brought his leg up to help support his weight and keep his stomach off the bed. “No one need live in a hovel when we have room for all.”

“You are most kind Your Majesty,” said Bard bowing his head. “The men of Dale appreciate the kindness of their King. I will withdraw and notify the men I feel would serve your purpose.”

“Tomorrow morning we’ll start their training,” said Dwalin. “Have them gather at the training grounds near the front gate.”

“Very well,” said Bard bowing as he stood. “Be well.” With those words, he was out the door.

“Training men?” asked Dwalin moving to the other side of the bed.

“Don’t feel up to it?” challenged Thorin.

“They don’t usually like to take orders from dwarves,” he pointed out.

Thorin snorted. “Kick their asses a couple of times and they’ll listen,” he said. “Dale needs to be protected just as much as Erebor. I have a chance to make sure Dale is our staunchest ally. I need to repair the damage my grandfather and Smaug wrought.”

“This might be fun.”

“I knew you’d enjoy beating up the new recruits,” teased Thorin.

“Will Bilbo be attending training?” he asked slyly.

“I will train Bilbo myself,” said Thorin firmly.

Dwalin chuckled. “I’m sure you will,” he said giving Bilbo an eyebrow waggle, which made the hobbit look away with a blush.

“Be gone pest,” growled Thorin.

Dwalin made a mocking bow before withdrawing. When the door closed, Bilbo sighed. “You’ll train me to fight?” he asked.

Thorin made a sound of agreement. “When we’re healed,” he said. “We’ll train almost every day. The royal wing has its own sparring area.”

“I’m not very good with a sword,” he reminded the dwarf. “I didn’t learn much from all the lessons during the quest.”

Thorin chuckled. “Bilbo, no one is any good when they first pick up a sword,” he said. “The teasing you hear from the company is meant in fun because they like you.” A large hand gently squeeze his knee. “We’ll use the private sparring area here in the royal wing until you feel confident enough to go to the main training grounds.”

“What if I never learn,” he protested.

“Do you feel you have some physical disability that prevents you from swinging a sword?”

“What?” he squawked. “Of course not!”

“Then you will learn,” insisted Thorin.

“You make it look so easy,” he said sounding unsure.

“I’m one hundred and ninety-five,” he said. “I’ve trained since I was eight. I do have a few years of experience.” Bilbo didn’t reply and after a moment, Thorin slowly rolled onto his back so he could see him better. “What’s got you so quiet?”

Bilbo’s face twisted into a grimace. “I don’t know whether to be alarmed that you’re one hundred and ninety-five or that you were given a weapon at eight.”

Thorin was quiet for a moment. “How old are you?” he asked curiously.

“I’m fifty-one,” said Bilbo.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “At what age are hobbits considered adults?” asked Thorin.

“We come of age at thirty-three.”

“You’re only being fifty-one is surprising to me,” he admitted. “I came of age at seventy.”

Bilbo blinked slowly, his face carefully neutral. “Seventy?” he repeated.

Thorin nodded. “Dwarves live to about two hundred fifty,” he said. “Hobbits live to when?”

“One hundred is pretty common.”

“We can expect to grow old together,” he said with a smile.

“I guess you’re right. I’m still alarmed that you were given a weapon at eight,” he said.

“I was given my first weapon at six,” he clarified. “I started training at eight.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I can’t even imagine that for one so young.”

Thorin shrugged. “All dwarves learn to wield weapons.”

“Even the females?”

“Especially the females,” he said. “Not all dwarves are great warriors, but all learn how to use weapons and defend themselves.”

“The only thing we have to defend against in the Shire is marauding faunts stealing pies from windowsills and sometimes wolves in the winter.”

"So my garrisons will keep the wolves at bay and not orcs?" challenged Thorin gently.

"Okay," he admitted. "We do have problems with orcs from time to time. Still I never felt the need to learn how to fight."

“You only have to learn how to adequately defend yourself,” he reassured the hobbit.

Bilbo nodded. “I’m actually looking forward to the lessons because you will be giving them.”

“If I’d known that, I’d have started teaching your lessons from the beginning,” he said. “It seemed you were reluctant to learn at all.”

“Dwalin is rather frightening,” he admitted. “Kili and Fili are a bit wild. I never trusted they wouldn’t hurt me on accident when they started horsing around.”

Thorin chuckled. “They are dangerous at times,” he agreed. “Would you learn a different weapon?”

“Like what?”

“Two-handed sword, daggers, throwing knives, war hammer or anything you like.”

“Throwing knives might be interesting.”

“After you learn how to use your sword well, then I’ll have Nori teach you throwing knives. He’s the best of all of us.”

“That’d be okay. Could I maybe start right away and learn both at the same time?”

“If you want. Throwing knives are mostly just a lot of practice. I’ll teach you hand to hand combat too.”

Bilbo looked alarmed at that idea. “Seriously?” he asked. “You’d tear me to shreds.”

Thorin’s mouth turned up in an amused smile. “I’d never hurt you,” he said. “If you learn how to use your size, speed and center of balance you could probably kick my butt in hand to hand.”

Bilbo stared at him blinking slowly with disbelief. “You’re much stronger than me,” he said with a shake of his head. “I really doubt that would ever happen.”

Thorin snorted. “You’ll see,” he said. “Hand to hand is about speed and knowing how to use your opponents moves against him.”

“Wrestling with you could be fun.” Bilbo gave him a lewd smirk.

“There is that aspect of hand to hand,” he agreed lips turning up with amusement at Bilbo's innuendo. “Perhaps we should practice in our rooms and not the sparring area.” He gave Bilbo a suggestive eyebrow waggle that made the hobbit blush. “Definitely in our rooms then.”

“Enough of that," said Bilbo with a laugh. "Change of subject.” His hand moved to brush gently over Thorin's hair gently urging him to lay back down. “Where will you move the supplies from the caravan if you don’t keep them in the storage rooms near the kitchens?”

“Good question.” Thorin rolled back to his side so he could rest his head on Bilbo’s thigh. “There are lockable rooms near the forges, but I worry that the heat would damage the food stores over time. There should be lockable rooms near the craft halls too.”

“I have a suggestion,” offered Bilbo.

“Where do you suggest?”

“The royal wing,” he said. “There are lots of rooms not being used. They’re not locked, but they are already under constant guard.”

Thorin was quiet while he considered Bilbo’s suggestion. “There is a back stairway down to the kitchens that would make it easy to move the food stores out of the kitchen area too. It would be very easy to hide the supplies,” he said. “That’s brilliant Bilbo! No one will think to look in living quarters for food stores.”

“Maybe I could start helping in the kitchen,” he said. “I miss cooking.”

“Going to cook for me?” asked Thorin. His hand slid under the edge of Bilbo’s short pants to rub gently at the smooth skin there.

“I would love to cook for you.”

“You know you never asked me,” said Thorin.

“Asked you what?”

“About dwarven courting.”

“Balin gave me a book,” he admitted. “I read it while you were feverish. You just don’t remember.”

“Ahh,” he said. “Do you have any questions?”

“I do actually.” Bilbo’s fingers carded slowly through midnight brown locks. “How long do dwarves court.”

“Varies by couple,” explained Thorin. “I’ve seen courtships of only a couple of months to several years. The longest I’ve seen has been six years.”

“Do you want a long courtship?”

“I see no need for a long courtship,” said Thorin. “I am confident in my choice. Do you?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I am fine with a short courtship,” he stated. “It will take two or three months to plan the ceremony.”

“It will be a huge production you know.”

“I figured it would be as you are the King under the Mountain.”

“I can do nothing about the size of it.”

Bilbo shrugged. “The entirety of Erebor will want to celebrate your marriage,” he said. “I have another question. Will you teach me to braid the courting braid?”

“Are you gifting me with a courting bead Bilbo Baggins?” asked Thorin. He leaned back so he could see Bilbo’s face.

“I don’t have the bead done yet, but I will soon,” he said firmly. “I would do your braid properly when I give you the bead.”

Thorin smiled warmly at his words. “Would you allow me to braid your hair and gift you with a courting beat?”

“I would be honored to wear your bead,” he said using the formal words.

Thorin’s eyes lit up with his statement. “Do you know where my pack is?”

Bilbo pointed to the wardrobe against the wall. “It’s in there.”

“Would you grab it for me?” Bilbo nodded and scooted off the bed. He took Thorin’s pack from the wardrobe and brought it to the dwarf. Thorin set it aside and slowly moved until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. It hadn't hurt as badly to sit up. A few days before moving like that would have made him feel like someone was ripping his guts out.

Picking up the pack, he opened a small pocket on the side. He took out a leather thong with beads strung on it. Undoing the knot and pulling the beads off, he kept the last one to come off the leather thong. The others went back into the pack. Bilbo watched all of this avidly. “Can you kneel so I can reach?” he asked. “I can’t stretch that far yet.”

With a quick nod, Bilbo was kneeling between Thorin’s knees hands resting on the dwarf’s thighs. Thorin sorted out a section of hair around his left ear. Clever fingers started a braid at Bilbo’s left temple that wound over and behind his ear to dangle down to his shoulder. Luckily, his hair had grown out during the quest. Once the braid was almost to the end of his hair, Thorin snapped the bead onto the end.

 Carefully, Bilbo pulled the braid out until he could see the bead. He studied it as he gently rolled it between his fingers so he could see the entire thing. Seven tiny stars were arrayed above a crown and on the other side was a rune. “What is the rune?” he asked curiously.

“The rune is Algiz. It means shield. As king, I stand between my people and the world as their shield. The gemstones are ruby for courage and amethyst for protection. The bead itself is mithril,” he explained.

“It’s beautiful,” said Bilbo. “Thank you.” The words were murmured against Thorin’s mouth as Bilbo rose up to meet him.

“I would cover you in gems if you desired it.”

“A couple of pieces of jewelry would be okay if they aren’t too large.”

“If that is all you wish,” he said with a yawn. “They will bring our dinner soon. Come lay down until it gets here.”

Bilbo was more than happy to curl up next to Thorin and take a short nap.

_______________________________

The next few days saw improvements in all those recuperating in the royal apartments. Bilbo was up and walking, albeit slowly and only short distances. The guards wouldn’t let him leave the area, but he was free to wander around the royal wing. His days were spent exploring the common areas when he wasn’t tending to Thorin.

Thorin’s fever was gone and he was on the mend. He was able to sit up for short periods. If he didn’t strain the muscles of his stomach, he was almost free of pain he said. Bilbo kept him entertained reading books that Balin brought them in between official visits.

Bofur carved Fili a set of crutches to give the prince some freedom. If he was careful and slow he could hobble to the bathroom and into Thorin’s room, which is why official business was now conducted there. Dwalin brought in a chair and stool to keep his leg elevated. He attended meetings with his Uncle as comfortably as possible.

Balin was careful to keep the official business to a minimum because Thorin still needed to rest quite often, but he managed meetings with all the visiting Kings, Lords and other assorted leaders who were currently in Erebor. He was as gracious as Fili made him out to be, except to Thranduil. They snapped at each other for every slight, imagined or other wise and it tended to derail progress of a meeting.

Today’s meeting was about where work crews were needed most. The second time Thorin snarled something nasty at the Elf King, Bilbo ended the meeting and the three of them shut themselves in the room until they’d resolved their differences enough to work together. No one who waited outside could hear what was said, but both Thorin and Thranduil looked chastised when Bilbo opened the door to invite everyone back. After that, both were civil to each other and the meeting went smoothly.

Kili still had a slight fever and he slept most of the day, but his cheeks were beginning to show good color. Tauriel was almost a fixture in their room now. She slept next to Kili, sharing his bed. Fili spent his free time telling her stories of his brother while they waited for him to heal. He welcomed her and treated her as a sister. She only left to clean up and attend to the jobs she’d been assigned.

Her request of Balin to be assigned a job was a surprise but all hands were welcome. Her archery skills made her a natural for the groups that went hunting. The group she was assigned to had begrudgingly let her tag along and mostly ignored her for the first two days. The third day she shot a boar that was charging one of the other hunters earning her a favored place in the group. Word spread and other dwarves began to greet her in passing or talk to her during the hunts. Her keen elven sight spotted game at a great distance allowing her group to have successful hunts, which further endeared her to the common dwarves. If she found it odd that Bifur and Bofur accompanied her anytime she left the royal wing, she didn't comment. She hadn't missed the hard looks some of the dwarves gave her.

_______________________________

Bilbo returned from his walk around the royal wing to find Thorin out of bed and slowly shuffling toward the chairs in front of the fireplace. “What are you doing you ridiculous dwarf?” he screeched startling the object of his scrutiny.

The quick jerk of surprise pulled his stomach, causing him to curl forward to relieve the strain. “Don't yell Bilbo,” he hissed.

Bilbo rushed to his side. “Sorry,” he crooned as he tried to help Thorin back toward the bed. The dwarf had different ideas and took a step toward the chairs. “Come lay down.”

“I’m tired of lying down,” growled Thorin, taking another step. Bilbo’s hand on his arm stopped him. “If you hang on my arm it will make me strain my stomach.”

Bilbo removed his hand but moved to stand in front of him. “You shouldn’t be out of bed yet,” he scolded. “If you tear the stitches you’ll end up back in bed for longer.”

Thorin scowled at him as he considered how best to get around the hobbit roadblock. His eyes flicked up to Bilbo’s face and remained there because of the look on his face. “Ghivashel,” he said softly. “I know you worry for me. I am going crazy in bed though. I need to start getting up.” He stood and waited for Bilbo’s decision.

Bilbo heaved a heavy sigh as his anger abated. “You’ll only go to the chair?” he questioned.

Thorin nodded. “And the bathroom,” he added. “I’m tired of pissing in a bucket.”

“You will be careful?” Bilbo asked his eyes boring into Thorin’s.

Another nod. “I have no desire to reopen my wound, but I truly am going mad,” he admitted, reaching out to Bilbo. He took his hand and let Thorin draw him closer. Standing almost chest to chest, Thorin looked down at him. Bilbo raised a hand to touch Thorin’s cheek, which the dwarf took as invitation to bend down for a kiss. He mirrored Thorin’s movement, pushing up on his tiptoes. They managed a quick kiss before Bilbo sank back down to the floor. “You’re too short,” Thorin teased with an amused smile. Bilbo huffed in annoyance. “When I am healed, I’ll just pick you up.”

Bilbo took a step back the better to glare at his dwarf. “You will not be picking me up. I am no child,” he grumbled.

Thorin smirked. “I promise I do not see you as a child Master Baggins,” he said with all seriousness. “There will be nothing remotely parental about what I will do to you when I’m feeling up to it,” he promised. Bilbo swallowed thickly and blushed before looking away. “You blush prettily,” he chuckled reaching out to brush a finger over the redness on Bilbo’s cheek. When he wouldn’t look him in the eye, Thorin lifted his chin with a finger so he could see his face. He saw uncertainty and a touch of trepidation. His stomach gave a twinge making him wince. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I need to sit.”

Bilbo stepped out of his way. “Please don’t strain yourself,” he admonished.

A few shuffled steps and he sank gratefully into the padded chair. Sitting with closed eyes, he waited for the pain to subside. Once he could breathe freely again, he opened his eyes to find Bilbo hovering over him. “I’m fine,” he reassured his hobbit as he held out a hand to him. Bilbo took his hand readily, but hesitated, when he tried to pull him closer. “Trust me to know my limits,” he asked.

After a moment’s hesitation, Bilbo came closer. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he stated.

“You won’t if we’re careful,” he assured him as he tugged. Steady hands guided the hobbit to sit sideways on his lap and pulled him to rest against his shoulder. In this position, he wouldn’t touch his wound and they could be close. Bilbo was stiff against him. “I’m in no condition to do anything. You can relax,” he murmured, oddly feeling the need to reassure the hobbit. 

“Sorry,” he replied. “I’m a,” he swallowed thickly, hands rubbing quickly up and down his thighs. “A little nervous.”

Thorin hummed something that might have been agreement. The subtle tension of nervousness felt foreign. He hadn’t felt this way since he was a stripling at his first bedding. He’d long since grown comfortable with sex in its many forms. It took him a moment to realize the feeling wasn’t his. He could feel the hobbit’s nervousness as if it were his own. 

He'd never noticed anything like it before when around Bilbo, but then he'd never cuddled the smaller male in his lap before. It was a curious thing, but not what he wanted to discuss with Bilbo right now so he pushed the questions away until later

Curious about the nervousness he'd felt, he used the sensation to guide him. He held Bilbo close and didn’t do anything else. Soon enough the hobbit relaxed against him, leaning his head on his shoulder. He ran a hand slowly up and down the hobbit’s back further calming him. Fingers wove through golden curls cradling him as Bilbo curled against him. He sighed and leaned his forehead against Thorin’s jaw. Turning he pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead before resting a cheek on his curly head. Fingers rubbed gently against the hobbits scalp. “Bilbo?”

He hummed a questioning noise.

“Have you done this before?” Long minutes passed and he frowned, about to ask again when Bilbo finally stirred.

“Done what?” he questioned.

Thorin chuckled at his avoidance of the question. “Have you ever been intimate with a male before?” he asked.

The hobbit stiffened against him, but didn’t pull away. Thorin could feel the nervousness spike with panic before smoothing out. “I fooled around when I was a tween,” he admitted.

“What age was that?”

“I was 23.”

Thorin hummed in acknowledgement. “Have you been intimate with a female?” Bilbo shook his head. Thorin shifted and pulled Bilbo closer wrapping one arm behind his back and the other circled around his front so his hand cradled the hobbit’s opposite hip. As he expected Bilbo stiffened under his touch and nervousness increased.

“Have you touched another male?” He gave a quick nod. “Did you touch each other?” Another abrupt nod. “Does being here with me make you uncomfortable?” he asked. He wouldn’t push the hobbit farther than he was willing to go.

“Uncomfortable? No. Nervous? Yes,” said Bilbo. He let out a sigh and pulled back so he could look Thorin in the face. He met his gaze for a moment, but looked away first. Thorin could feel him push the nervousness down though it still waited at the edge of his awareness. “I would have you understand.” He looked into half-lidded blue eyes before blushing and looking away again.

Thorin shifted, pulling Bilbo closer, offering him support. Bilbo leaned into him easily, turning his face into Thorin’s shoulder. Fingers combed locks grown long over the long months.

“Hobbits aren’t like dwarves. They don’t condone relationships between two males or sex before marriage, but tweens mess around some. My taste in partners didn’t conform to their ideals. I was a confirmed bachelor. It was the best I could hope for, as I had no interest in females,” he said.

“You will not find those prejudices in Erebor or any dwarven stronghold,” soothed Thorin.

Bilbo hummed an agreeable sound. “I did notice that while we traveled,” he said. “But you are the King. Will they accept that you don’t take a Queen?”

“My line is secure in my nephews. Fili is my heir,” he said. “There is no requirement for a King to take a Queen. My great grandfather, Dain the first, took a consort as a mate, but fathered three sons by contract with a noble lady.”

“Contract?”

“Yes. Those who cannot may contract another to bear or father a child for them.”

“You could do this?” he asked curiously.

“If we decided to then we could yes. Do you desire a child?”

Bilbo grew silent while he considered the idea. “I don’t know,” he admitted eventually. “I would have to think about it.”

Thorin made a noncommittal sound. “I raised my sister-sons. If you want a child, I would raise one with you, but it’s not required.”

“We can decide later?” asked Bilbo.

“There is plenty of time to decide,” said Thorin. “Tell me more of your time in the shire.”

Bilbo gave him a strange look. “I thought I was content, and then thirteen dwarves and a wizard stormed my smial.”

“Stormed your smial?” said Thorin sounding affronted though he smirked with amusement. He could feel Bilbo’s amused exasperation at the memory of his first meeting with the company.

“A horde of dwarves raided my pantry!” barked Bilbo.

Thorin smiled fondly at the hobbit. “We’re a horde now are we?” he asked clearly amused.

“An unruly horde!”

“Yet you ran after the horde to join our quest,” he pointed out.

Bilbo nodded. “Now here I am sitting on the lap of the King under the Mountain, who seems to be spending his time thinking about how he’d like to ravish me even though he can hardly walk because of the hole in his gut. Which, by the way, was put there by a crazed lunatic of an orc who hunted said dwarf’s family for the last hundred and fifty years or so. Did I miss anything?” Bilbo leaned back as far as the arms that held him would allow, his gaze challenging.

Thorin regarded him, reminded again of the hidden bravery of his hobbit. He watched him now, eyes narrowed with amusement. “That’s certainly true. Though you didn’t say whether you were open to being ravished by the King under the Mountain,” he pointed out.

“Ah yes,” agreed Bilbo. “That would be a resounding yes. I am open to being ravished by the King under the Mountain when he is feeling more himself and less like an orcish pin cushion. Looking forward to it actually as long as he realizes I have never done this before and he is patient with me,” he implored.

“Patience is my greatest virtue,” he said with a grin.

“Not buying it as one of your virtues at all,” he countered.

Thorin grinned at him. “Perhaps you are correct in that Master Baggins,” he agreed. “But for this adventure I will be a paragon of patience.”

“I have no doubt this will be a better experience than the two I had as a tween,” he said his eyes growing shadowed for a moment. Thorin felt a deep stab of pain that told him more than words. There was a story behind the hobbits words and he hoped Bilbo would feel comfortable enough to share it with him someday.

Thorin’s eyebrows shot up at that admission. “Two times, but not sex?”

Bilbo looked at his knees, his nose wiggling in the way Thorin had come to realize meant he was stalling. “No sex,” he admitted solemnly. The pain morphed into a sense of deep longing.

Thorin couldn’t help but smile, which he covered by pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s temple. “Ghivashel,” he breathed against his skin. “Such a gift you will give me,” he said with all the reverence he felt.

“A gift?” he repeated pulling back so he could look at Thorin.

“To be someone’s first is considered a gift to be cherished,” he explained. “To allow me to be your first is an honor.” He leaned down to press his forehead to Bilbo’s careful of his stomach as he moved.

“And here I thought it was an incredibly embarrassing burden to bear,” he said.

Thorin chuckled. “Then I will gladly relieve you of that burden when you are ready,” he teased.

Bilbo plucked at his pant leg, removing non-existent lint. “How old were you?”

“My first time?” he asked and Bilbo nodded. “Male or female?” Bilbo gave him a sharp look. “I have bedded both sexes,” he admitted. “But not so many as you are imagining I’m sure. While dwarves are more open about sex than hobbits it seems, we do not crave it as men are said to. Most of us can take it or leave it unless we choose to take a mate and bond.”

“Is bonding like marriage?”

Thorin nodded. “Yes and no.”

Bilbo hung his head in annoyance. “That was clear as mud,” he muttered.

He could feel his annoyance and found it amusing. A soft chuckle made him look up. “Ask your questions Bilbo,” he said. “I would have understanding between us.”

Bilbo nodded and shifted, his hand plucking at his trousers absently. Blunt fingers stilled his nervous movement, twisting so their hands were palm-to-palm lacing their fingers together. Bilbo’s thumb brushed over the base of Thorin's in a quick nervous gesture before stilling. “Tell me about the bond,” he requested.

Clasped hands rose to be pressed against soft lips. The brush of a beard tickled Bilbo’s hand making him jerk. Thorin smiled against his knuckles. “Does that tickle?” he asked.

“Yes,” agreed Bilbo. “Your beard tickles. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it before.”

Lips tipped up in a smile. “You have,” he agreed. “I wonder where else it would tickle.” Bilbo moaned, shifting uneasily on Thorin’s lap. “I do look forward to finding out.” The feeling of deep longing returned making Thorin smile to himself.

Bilbo blushed but didn’t pull down his hand. “The bond?” he reminded.

“A dwarf marriage ceremony is completed with a bonding stone that was dug from the dwarf delving at Azanulbizar,” he explained. “The stone has been with my people since Durin first walked on Arda. Those seeking to be bonded perform a ritual that ends with an offering to the stone.” His thumb made a slow caress over the back of Bilbo’s hand. “It symbolizes our desire to be one with our chosen.”

“What kind of offering?”

“A small gift of blood from each seeking to make a bond,” he clarified.

“Blood?” Bilbo parroted.

“A small cut only my burglar,” he offered soothingly. “Don’t let it bother you.”

“Of course dwarves would let blood at a wedding,” Bilbo muttered as he shook his head.

Thorin chuckled and pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s temple. “How do hobbits bond?”

“We marry and there is no blood, just a lot of food and drink,” he scoffed.

“There will be all the food and drink you could want my burglar,” Thorin assured him. “A feast to fill that soft belly,” he said releasing the hobbits hand to rest over his belly.

Bilbo looked down following his hand. “Don’t,” he murmured. “I’m not like you.” His hands covered Thorin’s where it rested against him. “I’m not strong.” A blunt fingered hand slid under his shirt to rub over pale skin. “I’m too soft.”

“Not too soft,” countered Thorin his voice soft. Work roughened fingers dragged deliciously over smooth, pale skin. “Delightfully soft, delightfully smooth,” he murmured. “I’ve found I have a preference for sassy, little, smooth-skinned hobbits.

“But you,” he challenged. “You’re strong. You’re all muscle.”

“You’ve always liked my muscles haven’t you little hobbit,” Soft words were murmured near his ear. “I noticed when you watched me.” Warm breath ghosted over the shell of his ear making him shudder. “I’ve bedded dwarrow, dwarrowdams and even a woman once, but the softness of a hobbit has not been my pleasure yet. But it will be soon.” The hand under Bilbo’s shirt slid upward tracing a path to brush over smooth, hairless skin.

Bilbo sat mouth open in a silent gasp. The hand exploring under his tunic jerked suddenly retreating as Thorin groaned. Covering his wound, he panted against the pain. “Thorin?” The dwarf shook his head. He couldn’t speak yet. “Silly dwarf,” he scolded, his hand covering the one held over Thorin’s wound. “Try to relax,” he urged. “Being tense will make the muscles pull.”

Carefully the dwarf leaned back, deliberately slowing his breathing until the pain subsided. “That hurt,” he muttered finally able to relax. Bilbo was watching him worriedly. “I’m okay my burglar,” he reassured the hobbit. “I just stretched too far.”

“You should be in bed.”

“Mmhmm,” he agreed. “With you naked and under me.”

Bilbo choked at his blunt words. “Thorin!” he reproached.

A blunt finger brushed over a reddened cheek. “You blush so pretty ghivashel.”

“Behave or you’re going to hurt yourself or tear your stitches.”

Thorin dropped his hand to rest on Bilbo’s thigh. “Just sit with me,” he urged. “I’ll behave.”

“I worry.”

The hand on his thigh squeezed appreciatively. “I know,” Thorin murmured. “It warms me that you do.”

Bilbo leaned against his shoulder, snuggling into his hold. “We both need to heal.”

“Aye. We do,” agreed Thorin. “We have come far together and been through much.”

“What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” asked Thorin absently as he enjoyed just holding his hobbit.

“Giva something. I can’t say it,” he said sounding apologetic.

“Ghivashel.” The word was murmured against Bilbo’s temple. “It is Khuzdul for treasure of treasure. A dwarf’s most prized possession. The treasure he values above all others.”

“That’s how you see me?” asked Bilbo sounding awed.

Thorin nodded. “I am a greedy dwarf and you are the treasure I value above all others.”

Shifting against Thorin, he turned and raised a hand to hook behind his neck. Fingers carding through his curls made him sigh. “That feels nice,” he murmured.

“That settles me my burglar,” he murmured. “I would speak to you of courting if you’re willing.”

“Courting?” repeated Bilbo.

“You spoke to me of a lack of understanding of my ways and I of yours,” he reminded Bilbo. “I would like to understand how hobbit’s court.”

“What would you like to know?”

“How long do courtships last? How do hobbits court?”

“Usually only two or three months,” explained Bilbo. “In the spring hobbits begin walking out with their chosen. There are dances and parties to attend.” His fingers rubbed at the hair on Thorin’s arm drawing his attention down. He watched as he deliberately traced a path up and down the dwarf’s forearm. “Lovely,” he murmured as his fingers traced a path downward. Thorin wasn’t particularly hairy, but what he had, was thicker and coarser than a hobbit’s. Bilbo found its texture under the pads of his fingers alluring.

Thorin was watching Bilbo. “Is that all there is to it?” he asked.

Bilbo glanced up, his fingers stilling their restless motion. “One might show favor with a special meal or a handmade gift, flowers are commonly given.” He leaned into Thorin, resting his cheek on his shoulder.

“Flowers?”

“Yes. Carefully chosen for their meaning.”

“A hobbity thing?”

“Hobbity?” he chided. “Is that even a word?”

Thorin nodded as he turned pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. “I’m the King. I’m sure it’s a proper word.” A soft chuckle was his only answer. “Flowers have meaning?” he said half question, half statement.

“Every flower has a meaning, some more than one if combined with others,” he explained.

“Much like our use of gems.”

“Tell me of gems another time,” said Bilbo. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Thorin hummed in response. “I forget,” he said. “What was the question?”

Bilbo chuckled. “Sure you forgot you ridiculous dwarf,” he scoffed. “I asked how old you were your first time.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot,” he said with a chuckle. “My first time with another. I was nineteen. It was in the baths after training. My mind was on a dwarrowdam I’d seen watching our training. My thoughts made me half-hard and Dw-,” he stopped and gave Bilbo a peculiar look.

“Did you just start to say Dwalin?” he asked with a grin.

Thorin looked away, his cheeks pink. “I did, but it wasn’t Dwalin. He wasn’t born yet. I was nineteen,” he offered as explanation. “Like I was saying, there was this beautiful dwarrowdam. My mind was on her. We were getting clean after training, when Goruk noticed my state and threatened me with a black eye for staring at his ass,” he said with an impudent grin. “I wasn’t intentionally staring. I was deep in thought and his ass was in the way. One thing led to another and we ended up helping each other while trying to come up with the lewdest things we could think of to do to the dwarrowdam.”

“Very mature,” said Bilbo.

“I was but a dwarfling,” said Thorin in his defense. “We were not ready to bed anyone. It was youthful fumbling.”

“You said you were nineteen.”

“Still quite young for a dwarf. I didn’t even reach my full size until I was around forty,” he pointed out.

“Dwarves do grow slower than hobbits then.”

“We attain our full height by about thirty and our broadness by forty. Around forty-five we are as we will be until the end of our life,” he explained.

“So you didn’t spring from the stone full grown and as wide as my smial door then?” asked Bilbo with a cheeky grin his hand moving to squeeze Thorin’s shoulder.

“No you impudent hobbit,” he snapped. “I was a small dwarfling once.”

Bilbo laughed. “You’re one of the biggest dwarves I’ve met. Can’t imagine you ever being small.”

“You are a silly hobbit,” said Thorin with a slow shake of his head.

“Your silly hobbit.” Bilbo looked at him amusement in his eyes.

Thorin froze, his eyes drinking in the hobbit. “Aye. My hobbit,” he said pulling him closer hand weaving into honey curls. “My silly hobbit,” he murmured lips brushing Bilbo’s forehead.


	4. New Problems

Balin opened the door to find the King’s bed empty. Later he would swear his heart stopped for a moment before he finally noticed Thorin was seated in a chair by the fire. He was sound asleep with Bilbo curled up on his lap. At the sight, his heart started beating again to a gentler rhythm than the wild gallop of fear.

He stepped closer to find Thorin awake, blue eyes watching him from under lowered lids. “Did you need something?” he asked voice barely a whisper.

Balin nodded and stepped closer. “I came to tell you the caravans have almost arrived. They are still a few days away. Apparently, they were having trouble with snow in a couple of places. Scouts report increased activity from Mt. Gundabad. Orcs have been seen leaving in packs frequently.”

“The safety of the caravan?”

“There is concern that the orcs might try to take it,” he agreed.

“Send as many as you feel are needed,” decreed Thorin. “Those supplies are our lives this winter.”

Balin bowed shallowly. “As you wish. Dain’s men or Bard’s.”

Thorin grew quiet as he considered his choices. “Both. Send ten men and the rest dwarves, but only the infantry dwarves. Have Dwalin choose a couple to command those who are choosing to stay in Erebor.”

“Send me Dwalin,” he commanded. “And get Dain in here.”

“Right away,” agreed Balin bowing as he left.

“And stop bowing at me,” scoffed Thorin.

“You’re the king.”

“You’re my friend.”

Balin paused before nodding. “We are friends.”

“Then stop bowing and scraping like that you bloody fool.”

The white-haired dwarf sighed. “As you wish men uzbad,” he agreed with a bowing nod.

“Bah!” growled Thorin. “Be gone you troll spawn!”

Balin chuckled and bowed lower before turning to go.

The soft click of the door sounded loud in the quiet. Bilbo stirred, shifting restlessly against him. Thorin tightened his hold on his shoulders, keeping him steady. “Cheeky isn’t he?” the hobbit asked softly.

Thorin chuckled. “Always has been,” he agreed. “Feel better?”

Bilbo rubbed his cheek against his shoulder like a little kitten. “We shouldn’t have slept in the chair.”

“We’re fine,” soothed Thorin, turning to press a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. “I sleep better when you’re close.”

“You’ve still got a hole in your gut your ridiculous dwarf,” protested Bilbo. “You should be in bed.”

“You always have the best ideas,” he teased running a hand under the hobbit’s shirt and over his belly.

“Incorrigible dwarf,” he scolded.

He hummed in agreement. “Just enjoying what I can.”

“How about we go enjoy that nice bed.”

“I like how you think,” agree Thorin his voice a lusty purr.

“You’re not up for anything you ridiculous dwarf,” he scoffed.

“Nice thoughts though,” countered Thorin.

“You should be thinking about healing!”

“You don’t want me to think about you?” He lifted Bilbo’s chin with a finger so he could see his eyes. “I think rather fondly of you my hobbit.”

“And I you.” Bilbo held his gaze, the harshness softening under Thorin’s regard. “I enjoy thoughts of what is to come, just not constantly.”

Thorin chuckled. “Don’t fret,” he soothed his voice amused. “I am not suddenly lust crazed, but I do enjoy your blushes.” As if on cue, Bilbo’s cheeks pinked under Thorin’s scrutiny. “You are rather fetching like that.” He urged him closer, leaning down to brush his mouth against Bilbo’s mouth. “And easy to tease.”

Bilbo leaned into him with a sigh. “Thorin,” he murmured against kiss-wet lips.

“Let’s move to the bed,” urged Thorin. Bilbo pulled back so he could see his face. “Just to rest,” he said earnestly.

Bilbo gave him a warning glare, but nodded before climbing down. It was slow going, but Thorin stood by himself and shuffled back to the bed. Lying down took a little maneuvering, but he managed it without too much fuss. “That was a lot of work,” he breathed as he tried to relax.

“Should have stayed in bed,” rebuked Bilbo.

“I need to start getting up,” Thorin growled eyeing Bilbo. “I cannot be seen as weak.”

“It’s not weak to need to heal,” insisted Bilbo.

“You’re not a dwarf,” he barked, hand clutching his side as he tried to relax.

Bilbo grew very still. “No,” he agreed. “I’m not a dwarf.” He backed away from the bed. “Please excuse me.”

He was almost to the door when Thorin called him. “Bilbo!” Whatever the dwarf said after that he couldn’t hear as he closed the door behind him.

When Bilbo turned around, Dwalin was standing behind him. “Bilbo,” he greeted. “You’re looking better.”

Bilbo swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. He gave Dwalin a curt nod before moving around him. The dwarf watched him as he headed into the other wing of the royal apartments. Dwalin slipped through the door to find Thorin sitting on the bed, his hand clutching at his bandages as he fought for breath. “What are you doing you fool?” he hissed as he ran to the bed. “Lay back down before you rip your stitches.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin offered with a pained breath.

“He was headed deeper into the Royal wing,” said Dwalin. “He didn’t look happy.” He was watching Thorin with wary eyes now.

“I misspoke,” he said as he struggled to lay back without making his stomach twinge. Dwalin’s hands on his shoulders helped ease his way.

“I’m not surprised.”

Thorin’s eyes were hard when they met Dwalin’s “What’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

“He’s a hobbit and you’re a dwarf,” he offered. “Different cultures and different values. We had many misunderstandings during the quest.”

Thorin relaxed back against his pillows. “He said much the same to me the other day,” he said. “He said we should be sure to get clarification when something like this came up.”

“If what you said stung him, he might need time to calm down before he asks for that clarification,” Dwalin pointed out as he offered Thorin a vial of pain medicine. The vials were a gift from Elrond. They didn’t taste any better than the tea, but they were ready made and could be carried in a pack.

Thorin waived the vial away with a disgusted look. “I need to get up and start moving,” he complained. “You sound like Bilbo.” His glare would have taken the shine off a gem if it were able.

“Is that why he’s not here?” he asked with an amused chuckle.

The look he cast at the other Dwarf was very annoyed. “He wants to coddle me,” he murmured.

“You took a sword to the gut you great fat-headed lump,” scolded Dwalin. “You need to be coddled for your own damn good.”

“I need to lead my people!” he hissed angrily.

“You’ve been doing just that right here from this bed,” Dwalin reminded him standing with his arms crossed. “You had the foresight to make sure we would have food available. You’re taking the counsel of other rulers to get everything up and running for everyone, not just the dwarves or have you forgotten those who stand around your bed and take your orders?” Thorin sneered but didn’t answer. “I know you don’t like to be idle,” placated Dwalin. “But you need to allow your body to heal. If you don’t then you are only prolonging the time this injury will keep you down.”

Thorin looked away his jaw set at a mulish angle. “I’m concerned that some will see me lying in bed as a weakness and use it to their advantage,” he admitted.

“You retook Erebor with a handful of dwarves and a hobbit,” scoffed Dwalin. “No one sees you as weak. Most of Dain’s men are settling in nicely. The caravan of food will be here soon and we’re still eating well on what Thranduil brought. We have food, shelter and safety. Your people are content and working hard to clear out and repair Erebor.”

“Except for the plot against my nephews love interest and the threat of the destruction of our food stores,” he complained.

“Aye except for that,” agreed Dwalin. “We are forewarned. We’ll deal with the usurpers. So far we hear no rumblings except from them.”

The muscles in Thorin’s jaw corded as he ground his teeth before finally relaxing. “And Bilbo?” he asked softly.

“Are you asking where he is or how the others are taking his being your chosen?” he asked.

“Both.”

“The guards won’t let him out of the Royal wing. He’s safe as a bairn in arms right now,” he reminded Thorin. “Those from the Iron hills are curious about the hobbit, but I haven’t heard much grumbling because he’s not a dwarf.  The only ones that seem to be complaining are the ones plotting mischief. The rest of the dwarves are mostly curious. I’m sure there will be some, who don’t agree with your choice, but you have an heir and Bilbo can’t bear you bairns so no one need be concerned about that. They seem to be curious why you chose a hobbit, as he’s not like a dwarf at all. He’s not a good fighter and he’s soft where a dwarf is hard. The bare feet are a curiosity too.”

Thorin turned to look at his friend. “I think I offended him,” he stated.

Dwalin nodded. “He didn’t look happy when I passed him,” he agreed.

“I want to be up and moving. I know he is concerned and only wanted me to rest, but I am going mad in this bed,” he said his voice becoming an annoyed growl. “I’m concerned with appearing weak. Our company is few in number and it wouldn’t be hard to overcome us with superior numbers. We appear to have allies in the men of Dale and the dwarves Dain says he trusts, but they are untested so we can’t be sure of them yet. He doesn’t understand how finely balanced my rule has been while we were in exile. I belittled him for not understanding.”

“Cocked it up,” agreed Dwalin with a grin.

Thorin shot him a poisonous glare. “You don’t have to look so bloody happy about it,” he complained.

“I’m not happy about it, but you’re wallowing in it,” he pointed out. “Let Bilbo cool down and then talk to him and explain what you were thinking at the time and what he doesn’t understand. He’s reasonable when you talk to him,” he added. “The hobbit likes his words.”

He gave a small nod. “That he does.”

“Now that you’ve got your head on straight, I came to tell you that Thranduil has asked to see you,” he informed him.

Thorin sighed. “What does he want?” he asked eyes closing in a long-suffering look.

“He didn’t say.” Dwalin shifted and turned to look at the door. “We gave him the jewels as Fili decreed and then he asked to speak to you.”

“Very well,” he said. “Will you ask Bilbo to return that I may speak to him first?”

Dwalin nodded and left.

A few minutes later, the door opened again to admit Bilbo. Thorin’s scowl softened. “I’m glad you came,” he offered with the hint of a smile. He held out a hand inviting the hobbit to come closer. Bilbo did step closer but not close enough to touch. Thorin lowered his hand. “I offended you,” he stated. Bilbo cocked his head, but didn’t comment. “I was irritated with myself, with my injury and I took it out on you.” He sighed and watched his fingers as he picked at imaginary fuzz on the skin covering him.

Bilbo stepped close enough to the bed that Thorin could have pulled him down to sit by him, but he kept his hands to himself. “I’m not a dwarf,” he said simply.

His glance was sharp as he met the hobbit’s eyes. “No you’re not,” he agreed. “I have noticed that.” He looked away to stare at his fingers again. “I like that you’re not a dwarf.” He looked back up at Bilbo. “Is that what offended you the most?” Bilbo didn’t answer but didn’t look away from his gaze. “I only meant that you didn’t understand the nuances of dwarven perceptions of weakness. I wasn’t belittling your lack of understanding or that you’re not a dwarf. I have found myself annoyed with this room and my confinement the past couple of days and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

With those words, Bilbo seemed to melt and settle on the bed next to Thorin. His hand stilled the nervous plucking of Thorin’s hand twining their fingers together. “I imagine I’ll learn in time, just as a dwarfling does as they grow,” he said.

“I will help you as much as I can,” Thorin declared pulling their hands up to rest on his chest. “I do need to get out of this room and start moving though.”

“Will you appear weak if you fall flat on your face or rip out your stitches?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin studied him looking for amusement or sarcasm but the hobbit seemed genuinely concerned. “Perhaps more foolish than weak. Dwarves are known for being stubborn,” he said. “I can sit in a chair there as easily as here.”

“You would confine yourself to sitting?”

The look he gave Bilbo was full of all the incredulousness that question stirred in him. “I would minimize my walking to what I could tolerate,” he acceded.

Bilbo’s brow furrowed and he stared steadily at his hands. “I’m not your keeper, but I believe you push yourself too hard,” he stated.

“Winter is coming,” he reminded him. “We have to get Erebor ready to live in for all who will stay here. I need to be seen as much as I need to see what still needs to be done.”

“Will you allow me to help you?”

“I would insist on it ghivashel,” he said firmly. “I will need your staid personality and cleverness.”

“Where will-“

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them and both turned to look. “Come,” called Thorin.

The door opened and Dwalin peeked in. “He is here to see you,” he said.

Thorin nodded. “Send him in.”

“Should I go?” Bilbo asked softly. Thorin shook his head his eyes watching the door drawing Bilbo’s attention back.

Thranduil stepped into the room with a nod to Thorin and Bilbo. “Thorin, Bilbo,” he greeted them.

“Thranduil,” Bilbo returned the greeting with a nod. Bilbo glanced at Thorin. “Please be nice,” he whispered before turning back to the elf. Thorin glared at him but didn’t reply.

“I asked to see you because I will be returning home.” He moved to the foot of the bed.

Bilbo turned so he could see him fully. “Is everything all right?”

Thranduil nodded once. “I too have a kingdom to rule and must return.” He looked around, eyes lighting on the chair. He pulled the chair from its place near the fire and sat facing the bed. “I would speak to you about Tauriel if you are willing.”

“Will you be taking her back with you?” he asked.

Thranduil shook his head. “She abandoned her post to follow your nephew and in a fit of pique I banished her,” he admitted fingers smoothing the fabric of his robe where it rested on his knee. “I could rescind it, but not yet. In time, I will allow her to return.”

“You would have her stay here?” asked Bilbo.

Thranduil nodded. “She’ll be safe here. Legolas will probably stay with her if you allow it,” he added. “If you allow the relationship with your nephew to continue.”

Bilbo and Thorin shared a look, but a small shake of the dwarf’s head stopped Bilbo from telling the elf about the plot against the red-haired elf. “It’s not for me to forbid my nephew loving who his heart chooses,” said Thorin his voice only slightly stiff. “I’m many things, but a hypocrite is not one of them.”

“Don’t make it too easy for them,” he said with an impish grin. “They’re young, they can take it.”

“Torture the children?” asked Thorin.

“Torture no.” Thranduil smoothed his robe one final time and looked up at Thorin. “Make them work for it a bit I think.”

“You’re still mad at Tauriel?” asked Bilbo.

Thranduil shook his head. “I am not angry, but I am concerned,” he said sincerely. “They will be looked at askance their whole lives for their unconventional choice. If they can’t persevere through a little adversity, then perhaps it’s for the best that they end this now.”

Bilbo looked thoughtful. “Is that why you came today?” he asked.

Thranduil shook his head. “No,” he said. “I came to thank Thorin for the return of the white gems.” He met and held the dwarf’s gaze. “I underestimated you and I will be the first to admit it. I hope we can continue to build on this and become trusted allies once more. Lady Galadriel speaks of a coming darkness and together our two kingdoms are stronger.”

Thorin was quiet until Bilbo reached back and pinched his leg. He grimaced and took Bilbo’s hand in his own to stop the assault on his person. “It was the right thing to do,” he said stiffly.

Thranduil watched their byplay with interest, the barest hint of an amused smile touching his lips. “I thank you again,” he said demurely. “They are one of the last things I have of my beloved. I will cherish them,” he said with a nod.

Bilbo held up a hand. “Give me a moment,” he said before leaning over and whispering to Thorin. Whatever he said, Thorin shook his head violently. Bilbo glared at him and leaned into whisper again. The sharp glare on Thorin’s face turned into a mulish insolence. He made a negligent gesture toward the elf, but didn’t say a word.

“Forgive me the rude whispering, but it just occurred to me that you might be able to help us with a small problem we’re having.”

Thranduil’s eyebrow climbed elegantly up his forehead as he nodded for Bilbo to continue. His eyes kept flicking toward Thorin, who sat clenching his jaw and looking like he’d rather be chewing rocks than sitting where he was right now.

“What I will tell you is offered in the spirit of openness and unity between our two realms,” he said.

Thranduil nodded his acknowledgement.

“We have uncovered a plot instigated by some of the officers in Dain’s army to destroy the food from the caravans so we will be forced to flee the mountain. We believe they will claim the mountain for Dain if we’re forced out,” he explained. “Dain has offered us dwarven troops to help defend Erebor until the caravan and dwarves loyal to Thorin arrive. While we trust Dain, we’re not sure if we should trust the dwarves under the command of those seeking to undermine Thorin’s rule. We have inquired of Bard about a joint maneuver with the men of Dale, but he can only offer about forty men as many were killed in the orc attack or are without any training at all.”

“You are asking for elven support until the caravan and troops loyal to Thorin arrive?” asked Thranduil. Bilbo nodded. “You may have them. Will a hundred archers and a hundred swords be enough?”

Bilbo looked to Thorin who was staring at Thranduil in shock. “Will that be enough?” he repeated to the dwarf.

Thorin turned to him and nodded. “Two hundred would be enough to escort the caravan and keep those instigating the trouble from enacting their plan,” said Thorin. He turned to stare at the elven King for a long moment. “Thank you,” he said finally and simply.

Thranduil nodded. “I have noticed a tension in some of the officers of Dain’s army and wondered about it. They threw my healers out of their own healing tents after the battle. It was the first of many slights against my people. Your own dwarves have been civil and tolerant to mine. I would rather dwarves who can be courteous be my neighbors than whose who might openly declare war on me and mine. War is costly and regressive when we should be working together instead of against each other. I will support you with such a small request. Do try to return them unharmed though.”

Thorin nodded. “Scouts have seen many orc packs leaving Mt. Gundabad and we worry that they will try to attack and take the caravan. Our stability right now depends on that caravan.”

Thranduil nodded again. “You are wise in seeing your vulnerabilities,” he said standing and bowing low to Thorin.

Bilbo looked at Thorin and the surprise was clear on his face before he carefully schooled it to neutrality. “I thank you for your support,” Thorin said his voice warmer than before.

“Now, I have taken enough of your time. I will return home.” He stood and returned the chair to where he’d found it. “I look forward to further interaction with the kingdom of Erebor.” He gave them a final nod and let himself out.

Bilbo turned around to face Thorin. “That was rather odd,” he murmured.

“You pinched me!” Thorin whined trying to ignore that Thranduil had ever been in the room.

Bilbo gave him an exasperated look. “You’re lucky I didn’t hit you,” he declared. “You have to maintain good relations with all of your neighbors.” Thorin opened his mouth to protest, but Bilbo pressed a finger to the dwarf’s lips. “Even the elves!” he scolded.

Thorin scowled and narrowed his eyes at his hobbit. “I don’t like elves,” he murmured against Bilbo’s finger.

“Don’t have to like them,” said Bilbo. “Just have to work with them.” He let his hand drop to rest of Thorin’s chest.

“I’ll leave that up to you then?” he said a hopeful look on his face.

“If you think it would be helpful.”

“You handling interactions with the elves? Very helpful.”

“You wanted me to volunteer?”

Thorin shrugged. “I don’t want to deal with the elves, except for the one sniffing around my nephew,” he stated. “If you want to, then I’m all for it.”

“He surprised you by giving you eleven troops didn’t he?” asked Bilbo looking rather smug.

“Only because he doesn’t want Dain on the throne if his men are going to cause trouble,” he countered.

“Whatever the reason, you now have two hundred elves who are definitely not loyal to anyone in the Iron Hills. The caravan will be secure. Dain’s troops can go home and you can get to the business of rebuilding Erebor.”

“And I will be indebted to an elf,” muttered Thorin.

“Are you going to do as Thranduil requested and make it hard for Kili and Tauriel?”

Thorin frowned. “My natural inclination is to ignore anything that prissy elf wants, but he had a good point.”

“We’ll face the same.”

Thorin put a hand over Bilbo’s clasping it gently. “There may be some opposition, but it will be different,” he said.

“Because I’m male?”

Thorin nodded. “You cannot give me an heir,” he explained. “I don’t know if dwarves and elves can produce offspring, but if they can a child of two races will find difficulties from both.”

“Children are innocent,” Bilbo protested with a mulish glare. “There is so much ugliness in the world why do people have to pick on innocents for something they have no control over.”

Thorin held up a hand to forestall his coming tirade. “I will love my nephew’s child even though it would be half elf, but all know we were treated badly by the elves when the dragon came and many hold more than the dislike I hold for them in their hearts.”

“Maybe this today can start changing their mind about elves. Both races have so much to offer each other if they would only start setting aside old grudges,” said Bilbo.

“Some won’t be able to see past those grudges. It’s all they’ve known for so long.”

Bilbo’s brow furrowed with worry. “Do you think Kili and Tauriel will be in danger when the dwarves of Ered Luin arrive?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Do you think Thranduil would let them go there?” asked Bilbo. “Or perhaps Lord Elrond?”

Thorin stiffened. “You’d have me send him to the elves?”

“Tauriel is an elf. If Kili can’t stay with the dwarves, he could spend time with the elves as an ambassador or something of that sort,” he explained.

“That’s actually a good idea,” said Thorin. “Being an ambassador would help him prepare to stand beside Fili when he ascends to the throne.”

“Not for many years I hope,” said Bilbo.

Thorin gave him a small smile a finger tracing along the hobbit’s jaw. “Not for many years,” he agreed. “An ambassador would be a good job for both Fili and Kili. It would get them acquainted with other cultures and allow them to be introduced to other rulers.”

“Would you send them to Rivendell?”

“Any kingdom would be a good choice. We could start rebuilding relations with other races and writing trade treaties,” said Thorin his eyes growing distant as he mulled over the possibilities.

“Thorin?” said Bilbo drawing the dwarf’s attention back to him. “Would you consider inviting hobbits to help with repairing the land around the mountain?”

“Would they come all this way?”

Bilbo nodded. “I believe some would come if invited,” he said. “There are lots of hobbits who work their families’ lands that would jump at the chance to have their own farms. You could offer farmland to those who would come or gold to return and purchase land in the Shire,” he said. “Your people are building garrisons to protect my people. We could help you turn the land around the mountain into productive farmland.”

“Dwarves are not farmers,” Thorin reminded him.

“The men of Dale call you their king. They are your people too,” said Bilbo. “They have survived as fishermen since Smaug came and could benefit from advice from those who have been farmers for generations. You could ask the Thain and Bard what they thought of the idea.”

The warm smile Thorin gave Bilbo made him smile back. “Your thoughts are always for the wellbeing of others,” he said. “My people could ask for no better consort.” He leaned forward to brush a soft kiss to Bilbo’s lips one hand rising to cup his cheek. Hand sliding back to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, his kiss became insistent, tongue delving in to explore.

Bilbo moaned and leaned into him, one hand rising to brace himself on Thorin’s chest. Fingers crushed the thin tunic Thorin wore as he submitted to Thorin’s demanding kiss.

With a groan, he gentled the kiss to press soft kisses to the hobbit’s now swollen lips. “Bilbo,” he whispered nudging his nose against the hobbits. They shared breath pressing their foreheads together as they both calmed.

“What brought that on?” asked Bilbo amused.

“Needed to kiss you,” said Thorin simply.

“Mmmm,” hummed Bilbo. “Feel free anytime.”

The corner of Thorin’s mouth turned up in a lop-sided smile. “I will,” he said. “You feel free also.”

Bilbo nodded in agreement. “I will.”

**_______________________________**

He waited in the shadows, carefully watching to see if anyone was looking in his direction before slipping into the hidden door. The hidden passages were a godsend to the red-haired thief. Balin had taken him aside and showed him where to locate the first one and the trick to finding and operating the catch. He’d spent days exploring the passageways and finding out where they led. The biggest surprise had been the strategic openings that were located in convenient places. It was at one of those listening spots where he’d first heard the beginnings of the plot against Erebor.

He returned to the same listening spot to await the dwarves who would shortly meet to finalize the plots to overthrow Thorin and his nephews and make way for Dain to take the throne. He’d spied on two more such meetings since he’d alerted Dwalin to the threat and only the absence of the one they only referred to as ‘he’ kept him from dealing with everyone involved in the plot. Once he knew who the architect of this plot was, they could finally deal with the traitors.

Idly he cleaned his fingernails with a blade as he waited, ears straining to hear anything from the room below. The listening hole was big enough he could lean out and see who was standing below, but he was concerned someone who wasn’t involved might notice the movement.

The soft sound of footfalls alerted him to the first arrival. Soon the sound of more feet joined the first. Greetings were exchanged then it grew quiet again. Two sets of footfalls, one of them heavier than the other joined the group below.

“Once he arrives, we’ll begin,” said the first dwarf. He listened to be sure he could identify voices.

“He is coming right?” questioned the second dwarf.

“He was meeting with Dain. He will be here soon,” explained the third dwarf.

“I’m ready for this to be done,” complained the fourth dwarf. He waited but the fifth voice he expected to hear never spoke.

“Eager to kill an elf?” asked the third dwarf.

“I could care less about killing elves,” spat the fourth dwarf. “I just want to be done with this and return home.”

“Having a change of heart?” challenged the first dwarf.

“No,” said the fourth dwarf. “I believe they need to be punished for not sticking to their own kind. I just don’t like this sneaking around. They’re in the wrong. We’re in the right. Let’s just hand out punishment and be done with it.”

“Dain doesn’t agree with kin killing,” said the third dwarf.

“He’ll see the wisdom of our actions when we’ve driven the ruddy elf lovers from the mountain,” said the first dwarf.

“Besides we’re not killing any kin,” scoffed the second dwarf. “Just that bloody she-elf and the hobbit if we can get him away from the dwarf. It’s not natural that a dwarf as highborn as that would keep around a useless, soft thing like that hobbit. He’s bewitched the dwarf somehow.”

“I still think it was the she-elf who put a spell on them,” said the third dwarf. “We all know they use magic.”

“Aye you all know how twisted that wood has grown because the elves live in it,” said the first dwarf. “It’s become a dark place like their dark hearts.”

“You didn’t hear the hobbit, when the dwarf lay dying,” grumbled the second dwarf. “He commanded the elf King to use magic on him.”

“I was near the healing tents that day,” agreed the fourth dwarf. “The hobbit did command the elf King to use magic on him, though the elf said the dwarf would not want it.”

The sound of footsteps arriving hushed their discussion. Nori heard the fifth dwarf speak. “We all know why we’re here,” he said. “He’s come to give us our final instructions.”

“What about the humans that are standing guard now?” asked the third dwarf. “The big tattooed one has started them on weapons training and they stand guard on the royal wing now too.”

A new voice, the sixth dwarf spoke. “I will take care of them,” he said. “In three days the caravan will arrive. In the chaos, you will slip in and complete your tasks. Be quick, be quiet or be dead. The fate of all dwarven kind rests on our shoulders. If we don’t cut out this weakness now it will spread until it is too large to excise.” Nori’s eyebrows climbed his forehead as he listened. He knew that voice. Carefully, he looked over the ledge to confirm what he heard. There below him was the distinctive hair and armor of Dain’s second in command, Strog.

“If you do your jobs, we’ll be in and out before they know what hit them,” said Strog. “Make it quick. We’re not torturing anyone, just executing them. No need to drag it out.” He looked each of the dwarves in the eye. “You know your jobs. Be in position the day the caravan rolls in. When they blow the horns announcing the arrival then you move. Any questions?”

Everyone kept quiet.

“Then I don’t want to talk to any of you until this is done and we move on to the next phase,” he said. “Go.”

Nori watched as the four dwarves filed out, leaving Strog and the dwarf he walked in with behind. “You know what to do when they act?” he asked. The fifth dwarf nodded. “That one we’re going to make pay. Get him secured and I’ll deal with him when it’s safe to move around.” The fifth dwarf nodded and turned to leave Strog following close behind.

Nori started down the hidden passage, mind mulling over what he’d heard. They had a third target and he had no idea who it was. They might be in a bit of trouble.

_______________________________

Dwalin was showing the recruits how to swing their swords and not cut themselves when he saw Nori peek around the corner of one of the buildings that made up the edge of the small training ground at the front gate. When he knew he’d caught Dwalin’s eye he disappeared back around the corner.

“Everyone halt,” he bellowed, stopping the drill. “Get in line at the training dummies. Practice the overhand slash and stab moved we worked on this morning, then move to the back of the line and do it again. Help each other. I want to see improvement when I return,” he barked. The men stared blankly at him. “Move it!” he yelled making them all jump and run, forming lines at the training dummies.

He grinned in satisfaction. He’d make soldiers out of them. They weren’t a bad sort and it had only taken the one fight to get them to listen. The first morning with the men of Dale had been fun. He’d led the men to the practice swords and given them their weapons. He started morning drills and as expected the biggest, meanest looking man had started giving him a hard time. The man towered over him by at least a foot and a half.

He’d been counting on one of them being a bully. Stoically he stood and took the man’s verbal abuse letting him work himself up. The other men had started snickering and tossing out the occasional comment. He stood and took the abuse until the man began to falter because he didn’t fight back. Then and only then did he attack the man with his practice sword. Swinging wide and slow, he made his strikes showy and easy to predict. He let the man block a couple of blows until he began to feel confident, then he let go and beat the man with the broadside of the sword, striking him over and over, never hitting the same place twice. If the blade he carried had been sharp steel, every strike would have been fatal. He drove the man back until he fell on his ass. A roundhouse kick to the head flipped the man completely over onto his stomach. The hard sole of his boot would leave a lasting bruise for the man to remember this demonstration by.

Dwalin took a step back and let the man start to get up before he barreled into him knocking him onto his back. Standing over him with a foot on his chest, he twirled his sword a couple of times for show and then drove it into the ground so hard it was buried halfway up the blade. The man pissed himself, but Dwalin never touched him with the blade. There was a finger width between the man’s neck and the sword. “Get up and go get a bath,” he commanded the man.

He turned and looked each of the other men in the eye. “Anyone else?” he asked voice calm.

Every one of them stared at him and didn’t answer. When he picked up the sword the man dropped and continued the drills, every man did his best to follow what he was told to do. They’d listened obediently since then and were actually starting to show improvement. The rest of that day, he’d laughed every time their eyes strayed to the sword he’d left buried in the dirt.

He let himself into his office, which was near where he’d seen Nori. As expected, Nori was waiting for him and sitting behind his desk. “Nice little office you have here,” he said leaning back in the chair and putting his boots on the desk.

“You’re going to clean my desk if you get mud on it,” he threatened.

Nori’s feet hit the floor and he sat up straight. “We have bigger problems than mud right now,” he said.

“You have more news?”

Nori nodded. “The dwarf leading the whole thing is Strog,” he said pausing to let that sink in. “They plan to act when the caravan arrives and everyone is busy with that. If they manage to get their hands on Tauriel or Bilbo, they’re going to execute them immediately.”

“Could it get any worse?” muttered Dwalin.

Nori nodded. “They spoke of a third target, but not who it was,” he said. “Strog said the third one they’d make pay.”

“Did they say any more about destroying the food stores?”

“No, but Strog mentioned a phase two,” he said. “That might be what they do next. Destabilize Thorin by killing his intended and then destroy our winter stores.”

“He doesn’t deserve this treatment,” growled Dwalin. “He’s worked so hard for his people. Now when he will finally get to be happy, they want to take it away from him.”

“So we don’t let them do it,” insisted Nori. “There are only six of them.”

“That we know of,” Dwalin reminded him.

“We move Bilbo and Tauriel somewhere safe so they are safe from harm.”

“That much is obvious. Do you know for sure who the dwarves are?”

Nori shook his head. “I’d know their voices though. I was looking down on them and couldn’t see their faces. I wrote down everything I could remember about them though like hair color, armor or weapon,” he said pulling folded papers from inside his tunic.

Dwalin took the papers and opened them reading the descriptions. “I might know who some of these are. I’ll see if Balin can help me figure out which dwarves fit these descriptions.” He turned back to Nori. “Good work,” he said. “Keep your eyes open and get back to me if you figure out who the third target is. There are only thirteen of us who didn’t come with Dain so we have a limited number of targets to choose from.”

Nori grinned and slipped out the door.

Dwalin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why couldn’t they just have a little time without some crisis cropping up? Tucking the papers inside his tunic, he went to find his brother and share the good news.

Balin wasn’t in his office, when Dwalin peeked in the door. He shut the door and turned around trying to decide where to look next. Across the way, a woman was watching him from the shadows between two buildings. Once she caught his eye, she motioned for him to follow.

Curious, he walked into the small alley. She looked behind him to make sure he was alone before turning and leading him farther into the area where they housed the men of Dale. The people watched curiously, as he followed her, but didn’t seem hostile or concerned. She led him across a large open square and into a big housing structure. Once inside, she led him down into what was surely the basement, but turned out to be a social area for those who lived in the building. He was surprised to find several other women sitting around waiting expectantly.

The feel of them watching him made him nervous and he stopped at the base of the stairs to look around the room for anything amiss. He didn’t see anywhere anyone could be concealed so he stepped into the room. The woman he followed pointed to a younger lass who he vaguely recognized as one of Bard’s daughters.

She nodded to the older woman. “Aye, he’ll do,” she said looking him up and down. “I remember him from my Da’s house. He was with the King when they came through Lake Town.” She stepped closer. “The King he spoke to you frequently when he stayed with my Da. You, the dwarf with the white hair and the hobbit.”

Dwalin nodded. “I remember you from Lake Town. My name is Dwalin,” he said. “I don’t remember your name though.”

She nodded and gave him a smile. “My name is Sigrid. My Da came to the women the other day and told them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious from any of the dwarves who didn’t come to Lake Town. You’re easy to tell apart because the other dwarves wear armor.” She pointed at the armor he wore. “Not like your armor. Most of them look the same.”

“Did you see something?”

She nodded. “Men don’t usually notice women, unless they want something from them so we see more than they realize. The same goes for dwarves. They don’t notice us as we move around their camp. Alicen here was in the dwarf camp near the big tents, picking up scraps of metal for the forges, when she saw an empty cage being taken into one of the small tents that the dwarves sleep in. She thought it odd that it was big enough to keep a dwarf in if he was standing. There were chains and cuffs hanging from the corners. She said it looked very strongly built.” Alicen, presumably, nodded at the younger girls words.

She pointed to another lady who nodded at him. “Merhild has seen the same five dwarves, watching that ramp they carried the King up the other day. They count how many guards and how often they change the guards. They also watch those of you who came with the King as you come and go.”

She motioned for one of the women to come forward. “This is Grissella,” she said introducing a timid, mousy looking woman. “She likes to draw and she’s really very good at it. Give him the papers Griss,” she urged. The woman pulled some papers from inside her apron and held them out to him without coming closer. She had to stretch her arm as far as it would go, before he could take them.

“Thank you,” he said giving her a nod. She smiled and blushed then backed up to the wall again.

He looked at the papers and found images of five different dwarves in lounging poses. He realized she must have drawn the dwarves who were watching the royal wing. “These are the dwarves who were watching the royal wing?” he asked. The mousy woman nodded vigorously.

“Merhild had Griss accompany her when she worked near there and draw the dwarves who were watching where the king was taken,” she said proudly.

“That was very clever,” he told her. She gave him a timid smile for his words.

“Helewise and Elison work at cleaning the housing units near the great forges,” she motioned to the last two women. “They’ve seen the other dwarves taking things back into the tunnels that go deeper into the mountain. They go into the tunnels right outside the great forge room. We were told not to go there because they hadn’t been checked, but they go in and come out quite regularly. They only do it when the dwarves who came with King Thorin aren’t around though.”

“That is odd,” he commented and she nodded in agreement. “Thank you for this information,” he said sincerely. He turned to go, but the mousy woman took two quick steps forward. Her movement drew his attention and he turned back.

“Thank you,” she said. “I lost my little boy last year because I couldn’t get enough to feed him. I was going to lose my little girl too, but now she gets good meals every day and she’s getting well. We will never forget who is helping us and if we can help you, please ask.” All the women nodded in agreement.

He nodded solemnly. “I will tell the King of your help,” he told them firmly. “You have done him a great service today.” With that, he turned and climbed the stairs. Stowing the pictures of the dwarves watching the royal wing in his tunic, he went in search of his brother.

_______________________________

A soft knock on the door interrupted Bilbo’s and Thorin’s cuddle session. Bilbo looked up at the door, clearly annoyed. “Who is it?” he called.

Balin stuck his head in the door. “I’ve brought Dain as requested,” he explained, flapping a hand at the two curled up together on the bed.

Thorin rolled over with a pained groan. “Send him in.” Bilbo scooted up so he could sit against the wall.

Dain entered the room, grinning. “I’m interrupting something aren’t I?” he said giving Thorin a cheeky grin.

“Nothing too interesting. I’m still got a huge hole in my gut,” he said.

Dain laughed and moved closer to the bed. “You’re looking better, ya bastard!” he yelled.

“Ugh,” complained Thorin covering his ears. “I’m right hear you great hairy turd. Stop yelling.”

“Ya need ta get your lazy ass out of tha bed!” he said loudly.

“I keep trying, but this one insists I rest,” he said jerking a thumb at Bilbo.

“In that case you should probably do as you’re told,” he chided giving Bilbo a saucy wink. “Don’t piss off your âzyungâl.”

Bilbo looked to Thorin who was shaking his head. “Was that crude?” he asked softly.

Thorin turned to look at him and shook his head. “Means lover,” he explained.

“Ya haven’t taught him the fun words yet?” chided Dain. “Ya lazy sod.” He pointed at Bilbo. “Make sure he teaches ya the fun words the next time he gives ya a good hammering.”

“Enough!” shouted Thorin. “I didn’t send for you so you could torment Bilbo.”

“I wasn’t tormenting the wee thing,” he insisted. “I was giving him some sound advice.”

Thorin glared at his cousin. “He’s mine and you’re annoying me,” he hissed. The glare he leveled at the red-haired dwarf was challenging.

Dain raised a hand motioning for Thorin to calm down. “Fine, fine ya greedy bastard,” he said. “He’s wee adorable though. No offense Master Hobbit. It’s just my cousin usually has a stick shoved so far up his ass, he can’t walk without a limp. He’d be more fun if he’d just let go.”

Bilbo blinked slowly at the loud dwarf insulting his dwarf before turning to look at Thorin, who was looking up at him. Thorin shrugged and gave him a helpless look. “Perhaps we could discuss the hammering Thorin does or doesn’t give me another time,” he said primly. “He called you here because of a serious matter.”

“A serious matter ya say?” He grabbed a chair and pulled it closer to the bed. “What’s so serious?”

Thorin looked at Bilbo before turning back to his cousin. “My spymaster has information that several dwarves in your company are planning to kill the elf my nephew has taken a liking too and destroy our food stores so we’re forced from the mountain this winter,” he explained.

The jovial look on Dain’s face melted away to be replaced by anger. “How many?” Bilbo’s eyebrows climbed his forehead at the red-haired dwarf’s immediate acceptance of Thorin’s words. He’d expected to have to work to convince the other dwarf of his people’s complicity in the plot.

“Six that we know of,” clarified Thorin.

“Do ya know who they are?” he asked.

“We know they are commanders in the goat cavalry.”

“When is this going to happen?” he asked.

“When the caravan arrives we believe. Everyone in the mountain will be busy. It would be the perfect time to try to assassinate someone.”

Dain closed his eyes and heaved a weary sigh. “I caught some of my men discussing how easy it would be to take the mountain from ya and your little company,” he said. “I disciplined them, but I have no idea who else is thinking the same way.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Dwalin stuck his head in the door. Thorin motioned him in.

“I’ll get my second in command to pick some of my most loyal soldiers to help guard the elf,” he said standing to leave.

“Strog is in the leader,” said Dwalin.

Dain stopped, his mouth dropping open in shock. “That can’t be,” he murmured. “I know he doesn’t like the elves, but he’s always been loyal and follows orders.”

“One of the women of Dale drew these,” he said offering the papers to Dain. “Bard had them watching for anything suspicious. The woman has seen these five dwarves watching the royal wing the past few days. They keep track of the guard schedules and watch the members of Thorin’s company as we come and go.”

Dain took the papers and looked at each of the images. His frown grew with each new image. “These are the dwarves I would have trusted the most,” he said sadly. “How could I have been so wrong?”

“Perhaps until they came here, they were trustworthy because they believed as you believe,” said Thorin. “I know my choice of a hobbit is an unconventional one, but he is worthy. My nephew has chosen an elf maiden that defied her King and followed him to save his life from a poisoned orc arrow.”

“Yeah, not sure about your choices, but they’re yours and yours alone. Ya have an heir so I’m not sure what the issue is with your choice. If he makes ya happy, then whose business is it anyway,” asked Dain. “Do ya have enough evidence to convict them?”

Thorin shook his head. “Only what my spymaster overheard,” he said.

Dain heaved a big sigh. “Let’s figure out how to catch them in a trap then so I can deal with the traitors. I won’t have my commanders undermining my rule.”

_______________________________

Strog watched the red-haired dwarf as he slipped from behind the wall. The dwarf looked around suspiciously, making Strog turn his attention to the dwarves in front of him. He had good instincts if he’d felt eyes on him from across the large square. Strog kept his eyes firmly on the two dwarves talking by his side until he thought it had been long enough. When he looked up, the red-haired dwarf was gone. The malicious smirk that twisted his mouth would have worried Nori greatly if he’d been around to see it.

_______________________________

Kili yawned and stretched. The warm body lying next to his groaned in complaint at being disturbed. “Go back to sleep,” Tauriel complained.

Kili chuckled. “I’ve been sleeping too long.”

“Kili? You’re feeling better?” Tauriel rolled away so she could see his face.

“Not feeling sick anymore and I don’t hurt like I did yesterday.”

“I’ll get Lord Elrond to check you over,” she said moving to sit up. “Perhaps the last antidote they gave you is finally working.”

A hand on her arm pulled her back down. “I feel great,” said Kili rolling over to look at her. “Don’t go yet.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

“If you two are going to get all kissy faced,” complained Fili. “I’m leaving.”

“Tell Uncle I said hello,” called Kili.

“Ugh,” groaned Fili as he struggled to shift his leg to the edge of the bed. “I need my own room.”

“Tell Uncle that too,” suggested Kili. Tauriel was grinning up at Fili.

“I’m not going in his room either. They’re worse than you two,” complained Fili as he headed for the door with his odd shuffle, thump gait. “Uncle is usually wrapped around Bilbo like a strangle vine and Bilbo always looks so happy about it.” His muttering sounded seriously annoyed before it was cut off by the sharp thud of the door closing.

“You talk in your sleep,” offered Tauriel.

Kili shrugged and winced when it pulled on his stomach. “Need to remember about the hole in my gut,” he murmured. “And I’ve always talked in your sleep.”

“Now you talk about me,” said Tauriel who was suddenly looking down the ruddy color of a blush staining her cheeks.

“It bothers Fili that I talk about you in my sleep?” he asked clearly confused.

The blush on her cheeks turned into red spots as she chuckled. “The past few nights your dreams might have been rather explicit or so they sounded.”

“Oh,” he said blinking slowly as he thought about what she said. “Ohhhhh.” His hand under her chin was gentle as he urge her to look at him. “Sorry if that bothered you.”

“I’ve entertained such thoughts,” she admitted. “I don’t tell the world in my sleep though.” Her teasing was gentle.

“Hey now. I can’t help that,” he complained.

“No you can’t,” she agreed. “I think that is what has Fili out of sorts.”

“He’s probably jealous.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “Truly you’re feeling better now?”

He nodded as he carefully prodded at the wound in his gut. “Still tender.”

“It will be for a while Oin said.” Her hand moved to rest next to his over the bandage. “You won’t be able to pull a bow until it heals.”

“Hopefully, I won’t need to for a while,” he said. “It’d be nice if we weren’t fighting for our lives every other day.”

“Somethings going on,” she told him.

“What do you mean?”

“Bifur and Bofur accompany me every time I leave the royal wing. They started doing that about a week ago,” she said.

“A week?” asked Kili clearly confused. “Just how long have I been out of it? How long ago was the battle?”

“The battle was over two and a half weeks ago.”

“I lost a lot of time,” he murmured looking deep in thought. “I remember being in the healing tent feeling like my middle had been cored out and then a few odd memories with you, Fili and Bilbo. I remember seeing Elrond standing by my bed a few times, but it seems the healing tent was only a couple of days ago in my mind.”

Tauriel shook her head. “You’ve been delirious with fever and whatever poison was on that weapon.”

“Whatever they gave me yesterday must have worked. I feel much better.”

Tauriel gave him a warm smile before leaning into press a kiss to his mouth. Kili’s eyes opened wide as he froze in surprise. It took him a moment to catch up and kiss her back. She kept the kiss light pulling back to press several quick kisses to his mouth before pulling back enough to see him.

Kili laid still, eyes closed. “If this is a dream,” he murmured. “I don’t want to wake up.”

She chuckled and leaned into press another kiss to his mouth, tongue gently tracing over the seam of his lips. A groan was pulled from him as he opened for her, allowing her to explore. His tongue dueled with hers as the kiss heated up until he drew back with a pained groan. He panted for a moment as he fought the pain. “Can’t be that enthusiastic yet,” he said. “Twisting makes my gut hurt.”

Her hand rose to cover her mouth as a blush colored her cheeks. “Sorry,” she murmured.

He pulled her hand down. “Don’t apologize for wanting to kiss me. Please don’t ever apologize for that,” he insisted firmly. “We just have to be careful until I feel better.”

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him again this time keeping the kisses light.

The sound of a clearing throat interrupted them. They opened their eyes looking at each and laughing before turning to see whom it was. “I see my patient is feeling better,” said Lord Elrond giving them an amused smile.

“Much better,” agreed Kili. “Thank you. Whatever you gave me yesterday seems to have helped immensely.”

“Using big words again brother,” chided Fili as he hobbled in through the open door. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“You’re just jealous I know big words,” Kili threw back at him.

“Both my patients are on the mend,” said Lord Elrond giving Fili a friendly nod.

“Can I have my own room now?” questioned Fili.

“I have nothing to do with housing, I’m afraid,” answered the elf. “Ask your Uncle.”

“I don’t like going in his room either,” he complained. “He’s just as sappy as Kili.”

“All I did was kiss her Fili, sheesh.”

Fili gave him a disgruntled look before moving to lay on his bed. “I think I’m just tired of hobbling around like a cripple,” he complained. “Dwalin told the guards not to let me leave the royal wing.”

“You shouldn’t be going far,” pointed out Lord Elrond.

“I know,” agreed Fili. “It’s more the idea that I can’t do it. It’s like being grounded. I’m of age. I shouldn’t be grounded.”

“Your Uncle has been voicing the same complaint,” said Lord Elrond. “I don’t think anyone is happy about being confined because of illness or injury.”

“Fili,” said Tauriel. “They care about you and want to keep you safe and well.”

“We’re in Erebor,” he stated. “We’re safe.”

“I think something is going on,” she said. “Bifur and Bofur follow me every time I leave the royal wing and the guard has increased.”

Fili sat up to look at her. “Really?” he asked looking to Lord Elrond.

The older elf nodded. “I haven’t heard anything for sure, but Thranduil left the mountain and left a large elven force behind that Dwalin commands.”

“Dain,” Fili said making it sound like a curse.

Lord Elrond shook his head. “Lord Dain has been spending time in Thorin’s room lately. I don’t think he’s part of any problem.”

“I wonder if Bilbo would tell us what’s going on?” asked Kili.

Fili made a sound of disagreement. “He and Uncle are thick as thieves since the battle,” he said. “Bilbo will do whatever Uncle wants him to.”

“He accepted Uncle’s courtship?”

Fili nodded. “I asked to make sure Uncle explained about the mithril shirt. They’d danced around each other long enough.”

Kili groaned dramatically and covered his eyes with his hand. “Oh Mahal,” he whined. “Uncle doesn’t know you interfered does he?”

Fili frowned. “I didn’t interfere,” he insisted. “I’m done treating everything like a great big joke. We didn’t listen to Uncle during the battle and split up to look for orcs. It almost got us both killed,” he growled. “How many times has he told us that something we did was stupid or foolhardy? This isn’t a game. Erebor is serious and it’s time to grow up.” He gave Kili a heated glare before leaning back against the wall.

“Easy Fili,” said Kili. “I wasn’t trying to make you mad.”

“Uncle and Bilbo danced around each other since the carrock,” he explained. “Uncle didn’t explain about the meaning behind the mithril shirt and you saw the same as I did that Bilbo didn’t accept or decline. You know Uncle wouldn’t have asked him directly. He’d have assumed that Bilbo’s lack of acceptance was his way of saying no and he would have walked away.”

Kili nodded. “True,” he agreed. He turned to look at Tauriel and Lord Elrond. “For all Uncle has ruled the Longbeards since Thror disappeared, he never asks for anything for himself. He will do anything for his people, but when it comes to something he wants he’s subtle to the point of incomprehensibility.”

“So I asked Bilbo if Uncle explained about the mithril shirt,” he said. “Which surprisingly, he had, but according to Bilbo only because of a small misunderstanding.”

Kili laughed. “Bilbo always makes light of Uncle’s tantrums. He said an argument they had in Bree was a discussion.”

“Enough about your Uncle’s love life,” scolded Lord Elrond a smile soothing the sting. “I need to inspect your wound Kili.” He moved to sit in the chair between their beds. “If the treatment yesterday helped you, then there are several patients who could benefit from it.”

“Anything you need,” agreed Kili as he worked to roll over without straining his stomach muscles.

“I only need to remove the bandages and inspect the wound,” he clarified.

“Okay,” the dark-haired prince agreed with a nod as he pulled up his nightshirt and pushed down the fur.

Lord Elrond carefully removed the bandage and leaned down to inspect the wound. “The wound itself is healed,” he said as he pulled gently against the skin on the dwarf’s stomach with one finger. “The red streaking is much less than yesterday. I do believe the new treatment is working well. I’ll give you a dose for the next four days to ensure that it removes the entire toxin.”

Kili was watching curiously, as Elrond worked. “Is the poison why there are those weird red marks around the wound?”

Elrond nodded. “Whatever the weapons were coated with it’s a slow acting toxin,” he explained. “We don’t know if it would be fatal because we’ve worked hard to counter its effects.”

Kili stared at Lord Elrond. “I am doubly thankful for my life then,” he said. “Your help is greatly appreciated.”

Tauriel nodded. “I thought I’d lost him,” she murmured.

Lord Elrond stood giving the dark-haired prince a fond look. “Long may the line of Durin lead the dwarves of Middle Earth,” he said with a bowing nod. “And may our people find friendship with each other in the dark times to come.”

“You have more than earned mine,” declared Kili.

“And mine,” added Fili.

Elrond gave them a warm smile. “Please excuse me,” he apologized. “I need to check on my other patients.”

The soft click of the door shutting was followed by Tauriel’s soft giggle. Fili looked over drawn by the sound only find his brother and the elf kissing again.

“Argh!” he groaned as he rolled to face away from them. “My eyes. I’m scarred for life.”

Tauriel’s chuckle grew into a laugh at his theatrics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. More Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. I'm trying to keep to at least one chapter a week, but life decided to be mean to me this week. I hope you enjoy.

Thorin sat stiffly in his chair, taking great care not to fidget. His wound ached something fierce, but he wouldn’t let his discomfort show. From the corner of his eye, he could see Bilbo casting concerned glances at him, but the subtle shake of Thorin’s head stopped him from voicing what he knew the hobbit longed to say. Around them seated in chairs were those of the company who were required to attend, Dain and Iron hill dwarves who were here to report on various phases of the reconstruction or daily workings of Erebor.

“The damage to the upper mines is extensive,” the dwarf before him droned on. So far, the dwarf hadn’t said anything of import and he’d managed to waste precious minutes of Thorin’s time. “Plans are being prepared to detail the reconstruction needed to make them safe.”

Thorin watched the dwarf through narrowed eyes. This wasn’t the task he was assigned. Holding up a hand he stopped the dwarf’s monologue. “I was expecting your report on the safety of housing in the eastern cavern,” he reprimanded firmly. “The Supervisor of Mining will detail the reconstruction of the mining caverns.”

The dwarf blinked several times before standing taller. The look on his face said he believed he was talking to a simple person. “That dwarf was reassigned to guard an elf,” he said his face twisting with distaste at the very idea. “The mines will need extensive work-“ he started to say.

“The mines!” Thorin growled, cutting off the dwarf’s words. “Will wait until the Supervisor of Mining is ready to deal with them.”

“You can’t-“ the dwarf protested, taking a menacing step toward Thorin.

Dwalin stepped forward from his position flanking Thorin, hand on his sword hilt, and glare leveled at the offending dwarf. Balin did not stand from his seat beside Bilbo, but he loosened the strap on the war hammer strapped to his back.

The dwarf stopped short, eyeing Dwalin as though judging whether he could best him before nodding and taking a step back. “I merely meant to point out that the mine work should begin as soon as possible as it will take significant time to repair the damage the dragon wrought. Once the mines are in production again, a steady stream of income will be available to the city,” he explained. He held Thorin’s gaze in a silent battle of wills, challenging him for an entire minute before finally looking down.

“The mines are no concern of yours,” Thorin declared speaking with the assurance of his authority. “The housing in the eastern cavern was your assignment. You are relieved of duty. You may return to the Ironhills. Your services are no longer needed here.”

The dwarf raised his eyes face twisted in anger. “You can’t-“ he was almost shouting.

Dain stood up so swiftly his chair slid backwards, teetering precariously for a moment before settling back down on all four legs. The dwarves arrayed around the room all tensed in either anticipation or fear. “Ya dare speak this way to the King under the Mountain?” he snarled.

The dwarf turned to Lord Dain with a look of surprise. “He has not been crowned!” he protested.

“Not yet!” growled Dain. “My cousin was grievously wounded during the battle and barely escaped with his life!” he shouted as he advanced on the kneeling dwarf. “Ya shame me and ya shame the honor of the Ironhills with your insolence,” he ground out. “I ought to take your worthless head right now,” he hissed.

The surprise on the dwarf’s face morphed to fear. He swiftly dropped to one knee before Dain, his head bowed in respect. “My lord forgive me,” he said. “I misspoke.”

Dain stood over the kneeling dwarf his face twisted into a sneer, hands opening and closing. After a moment, he looked up his gaze sliding from dwarf to dwarf challenging each in turn. “If any dwarf under my rule objects to my noble cousin being King under the Mountain,” he challenged. “Let him speak now so I may relieve him of his fool head. I did not answer my cousin’s call to retake the mountain because I feared the dragon’s wrath. He had a company of twelve dwarves and a wee hobbit,” he said the last word with a tone incredulity. “Of all the creatures to stand up to a dragon I would never name a hobbit, one of the fair folk known for their peaceful ways.”

He looked around at the gathered dwarves again daring them to speak against him. “My cousin reclaimed this mountain with a party of thirteen. I did not answer his call and I’ll be shamed by my fear because a hobbit stood with him when I would not!” He took a step back and pointed at Thorin. “When the caravan arrives and my people from the Iron hills and his people from Ered Luin are here, my cousin will take his rightful place on the throne of Erebor. It is his birthright. He has more than proved his suitability to be crowned the King of all the dwarves by his rule of Durin’s folk for the past hundred and forty years and by reclaiming Erabor one of the greatest dwarven strongholds in Middle Earth.”

He drew a long dagger from a sheath at his side. “If any dwarf thinks otherwise, let him come here now so I can remove him from this life. He is a fool that believes Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror doesn’t deserve to take his place as the rightful King of Erebor!” his last words were shouted and answered by a roar from all the dwarves assembled except for two, who Dwalin and Balin both noted.

When the noise died down, he looked around at each dwarf again. “All of you get out of here,” commanded Dain. “I’m tired of listening to all of ya nattering like old dams. Ya know your jobs. Do them and shut your gobs!”

The assembled dwarves filed from the temporary meeting room. When only Thorin’s company and Dain were left, Thorin leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh. “I didn’t realize you cared,” he teased his cousin.

Dain grinned at him. “Don’t get too excited laddie,” he said. “I don’t care who sits on that bloody throne as long as it’s not me! Though you’ll do better than most.” He dragged a chair over so he could sit and talk comfortably. “Whoever sits on that throne will have a target painted on their back. I’m not stupid, Thorin.”

Thorin inclined his head toward Dain with a majestic nod. “I never thought you were,” he agreed. “We all have our rolls to play,” he said absently reaching over to weave his fingers with the hobbits. Bilbo’s cheeks pinked, but he didn’t object.

“Did ya see who wasn’t happy about what I said?” asked Dain looking first at Balin and then Dwalin.

Dwalin nodded. “The dwarf on his knees and Derig, the dwarf in charge of checking the great forges.”

“Aye,” said Dain sliding down in his chair and crossing his feet at the ankles. “I’m surprised at every turn by who is showing signs of disloyalty.”

“There is a lot of gold in this mountain,” said Thorin. “Even I was overcome with the splendor of it for a time.”

“Of course ya were ya great lunk head,” teased Dain. “You’re family has always been a bit soft in the head.” He softened his words with a lopsided smile. “I tried getting your sister ta marry me for years,” he complained. “She turned me down and married that scruffy miner.”

“Probably one of the brightest things she ever did,” Thorin said with a sly grin at Dain.

Dain laughed happily at his words. “He did make her very happy,” he agreed.

“That he did,” said Thorin with a fond nod. His thumb began to brush slowly over the back of Bilbo’s hand. “I thought his death would be her end, but she had his dwarflings to raise. They saved her.” He grew quiet as he relived his memories.

“Seriously though Thorin,” said Dain calling him back from his contemplation. “Reclaiming Erebor is going to make ya a target.”

“I know,” he said, leaning over slightly so his arm rested against Bilbo’s. “We are between the orcs in Gundabad and Mordor. Our only remaining dwarven neighbor is your people in the Iron hills. We’re both vulnerable from attack because of the position of our kingdoms.”

“There have been stirrings from the Easterling kingdom,” said Dain. “Nothing concrete yet, but they have made a few small incursions into my territory.”

Thorin nodded thoughtfully. “We need to make fast allies of those who will ally with dwarves. Gandalf said evil is beginning to stir in the dark places again. I’ve begun to make peace with Thranduil and Elrond.”

“Has it come to this that we must make allies of even elves?” asked Dain with a grimace.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” he said with a troubled frown. “You’ve studied the histories cousin,” he said. “We’ve had peace for too long. Those spawned of darkness will rise again. Perhaps not in our lifetimes, but I fear it will be soon enough. I am readying Erebor and Dale for war. In the last age, only those kingdoms who sought allies survived those dark times. The others were picked off one by one.”

“Do you think it necessary to be prepared for war?” asked Dain.

“How can we not?” asked Thorin with an annoyed sigh. “My people haven’t been thriving in Ered Luin. So many were lost when Smaug attacked. We will have to work to return Erebor to fighting strength. I would suggest you do the same for the Iron Hills cousin.”

Dain grinned at that and nodded. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said. “I was feeling ya out to be sure ya were sincere.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Thorin a cheeky grin.

“Testing me?” asked Thorin with an amused smile.

“My advisors keep pushing me to maintain and not increase our troops. They say it’s too big a drain on the treasuries,” he grumbled. “I think they don’t like anything cutting into that which fattens their own purses!” he spat. “What good is gold if you’re dead?”

Thorin nodded motioning to Dwalin. “Can you see if Bombur has lunch ready?” he asked. “See if the company can make it for dinner tonight too.” He turned back to Dain. “Would you like to join us for lunch?” he asked.

Dain nodded. “I’d be glad too. I need to make arrangements to have Godrin and Derig sent back to the Iron Hills,” he informed him. “I’ll join you shortly.”

Balin, who had been listening quietly, stood and nodded to Thorin. “I’ll go make sure my notes are ready for the meeting this afternoon.

He left leaving Thorin and Bilbo alone. “You’re hurting,” said Bilbo unnecessarily.

“Aye Ghivashel,” agreed Thorin. “My stomach hurts today. I can bear it though.” He tugged Bilbo closer so he rested against his chest. “There is a plot to bring our mountain to its knees and we need to weed out the troublemakers.”

Bilbo leaned into Thorin, fingers absently playing with the fur edging on his official robes. “You and Dain seemed unusually in sync today,” he murmured. “You planned that didn’t you?” His voice sounded slightly accusatory.

Thorin chuckled. “You do have the sharpest eyes and mind my burglar,” he said warmly. “I spoke with Dain at length last night when you were in the bath,” he admitted. “He said he’d do something that would make his position clear to his troops.”

“That’s why he made the speech?” he asked.

Thorin nodded pressing a kiss to the top of Bilbo’s head. “When we spoke last night, he made it clear he has no desire to be King in Erebor or to rule the seven clans,” he said. “He is content where he is. Though if I wanted to send a little gold his way, he wouldn’t turn it down,” he said with amusement.

“Who wouldn’t want some of the vast amount of gold in your treasury my King,” Bilbo murmured rubbing his cheek on Thorin’s chest.

“You,” he said simply. “My burglar has no use or desire for any of the riches in my vast horde.”

“Hobbits have no use for gold or gems,” he agreed. “I did agree to a couple of pieces as long as they aren’t outrageous. Something elegant and understated would be tolerable.”

Fingers threaded through honey colored curls, tugging his head back so Thorin could brush a kiss over his mouth. When he pulled back, he smiled. “That almost didn’t hurt,” he said. “A week ago that would have made me feel like I was being gutted.”

Bilbo sat up his attention on Thorin’s stomach. “Be careful you ridiculous dwarf,” he scolded. “You’re finally up and about, don’t ruin it.”

“I appreciate your worry Bilbo. I really do,” he murmured. “I am being careful.” He held the burglar’s gaze staring into expressive eyes that said everything the hobbit wanted to say, but held back. Understanding how fussy Bilbo was when concerned, he appreciated his restraint even more. “Ready for lunch?” he asked.

Bilbo nodded and stood up, turning to look at Thorin only to find himself unexpectedly tugged down onto the dwarf’s lap. His indignant squawk was lost in the dwarf’s mouth as Thorin’s tongue invaded, plundering and coaxing. Thick fingers threaded through his hair, holding his head still as Thorin all but devoured him. The dwarf’s other hand on his hip, dragged him closer until he was straddling his lap. Once he was where Thorin wanted him that hand slid around to rest on his bum, kneading the amble flesh vigorously and pressing him firmly against the dwarf.

Bilbo melted against Thorin with a sigh, allowing him to kiss and touch as he would. His own hands were woven into Thorin’s hair at the nape of his neck. A hum of appreciation tumbled from him when a hand slid under the edge of his shirt to brush softly against the skin on his side. Thorin gentled the kiss, pulling back with a few soft pecks to Bilbo’s kiss swollen lips.

Insistent hands pulled him back, sliding to tangle in the thickness of his beard. Clever hobbit fingers tilted his chin so Bilbo’s mouth could slant over his. The insistent swipe of the hobbits tongue was a surprise earning him a groan, which Bilbo answered with a hum of pleasure. He wasted no time in delving deeper exploring, tasting and enticing. Thorin settled back, Bilbo followed eagerly, mouth claiming what the dwarf gave freely. It wasn’t Thorin’s way to let other’s lead, but Bilbo’s eagerness was arousing and he allowed him control for a moment. Sliding a hand up the hobbit’s back, he pressed him firmly against his chest then slid his hand down to grasp gently at soft linen stretched over the promise of soft, amble flesh.

The soft clearing of a throat made Bilbo freeze. A small sound of surprise or embarrassment escaped him before he could pull it back. “Thorin?” he whispered.

“Hmmm,” he hummed blinking lazily at Bilbo.

“We got carried away,” he whispered furiously.

“We did,” he said voice thick and raspy with his arousal. He leaned to the side to see who was waiting for them. “It’s just Dain,” he said dismissively before brushing a whisper of a kiss against Bilbo’s mouth.

“Seriously cousin,” rumbled Dain. “If you’re not going to share, then put the hobbit down,” he teased.

Leaning to the side to look at Dain, Thorin narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I do not share my pleasures,” he growled, one arm circling Bilbo and possessively tugging him closer. Thorin flicked a glance at Bilbo watching as the hobbit’s embarrassment turned to distaste.

Bilbo turned to look over his shoulder at Dain. “I am not a toy you can pass back and forth,” he snipped.

Dain’s smile turned into a wide grin. “Perhaps he won’t share ya wee hobbit, but you are most definitely a toy,” he teased.

Bilbo stiffened against Thorin, before turning as far as he could in Thorin’s hold. “Now you listen here you numb-brained, red-haired numpty!” he shouted. “I’m no one’s toy!” He sat, finger pointed at Dain, chest heaving as he fought to stay calm. The Lord of the Iron Hills knew just how to get under his skin.

Dain stared at him, eyebrows rising as he talked before bursting out in raucous laughter. “I like him Thorin,” he said. “He’s a keeper!”

Bilbo lowered his hand with a sigh, turning to look at Thorin in disgust. “He’s goading you,” murmured Thorin, slipping a hand under Bilbo’s jacket to rub gently at this side.

He nodded in understanding. “I’m not used to it I guess,” he mumbled back.

Thorin nodded once and gave Bilbo an amused smile. “Dain loves nothing more than to trade insults for fun,” he offered. “Don’t take what he says to heart.” Thorin leaned over to look at Dain. “We’ll be in to lunch soon,” he told the other dwarf.

Dain grinned at Thorin. “If you’re not, I’m coming back to steal the hobbit,” he challenged.

Bilbo turned back around to glare at Dain. “You’ll do no such thing you,” he declared hand fisting in the collar of Thorin’s robe. “I’ll gladly let Thorin skewer you if you try that.”

Thorin grinned at Dain and made a dismissive gesture for him to leave. “You’re a fierce little thing Bilbo Baggins,” he said lowering his hand to rest on the hobbit’s hip.

“Not really,” he disagreed. “I just don’t care for Dain.”

Thorin chuckled. “He’s not bad, once you get to know him,” he explained. “He has an odd sense of humor. His father was much the same.”

Bilbo leaned against Thorin, relaxing with a sigh. “I guess I’ll have to learn to like him,” he said.

Thorin laughed. “You don’t have to like him,” he said. “You don’t have to like anyone. Except me,” he teased. “You have to like me.”

Bilbo turned so his cheek was against Thorin’s shoulder and he could look up at him. “Is that your command my King?” he asked giving the dwarf a cheeky smile.

Thorin’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the hobbit. “It is,” he agreed, leaning down slowly until his lips brushed over Bilbo’s. Thick-fingered hands slid up the hobbit’s sides, gently guiding him back to a sitting position. One hand slid up, cradling the back of the hobbit’s head and holding him still as Thorin deepened the kiss. Firm and commanding, he took what he wanted, coaxing a deep sigh from Bilbo that was lost in the dwarf’s mouth. Pulling back, Thorin gazed at the hobbit, who sat with his eyes closed, lips red and kiss-swollen a look of bliss on his face. Pressing his forehead against Bilbo’s he nudged gently at the hobbit’s nose with his own. “My hobbit,” he breathed.

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply when his stomach gave a protesting gurgle. Thorin and Bilbo looked down as they shared a laugh. “Sorry,” said Bilbo sheepishly.

“I am remiss in the feeding of my hobbit,” joked Thorin.

“Think you’re funny?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin nodded. “And adorable,” he added. That made Bilbo laugh until his stomach gave another gurgle. “Can you make it do that on command?” asked Thorin poking lightly at Bilbo’s stomach with one finger.

Shaking his head, he climbed off Thorin’s lap. “On command?” he scoffed. “Not hardly.”

“Too bad,” said Thorin as he carefully pushed himself up to follow Bilbo to lunch. “I thought it might get me out of the occasional meeting.”

“Wait, what?” he asked. His stomach gave a timely gurgle.

Thorin laughed and gave Bilbo’s stomach a fond pat. “In the middle of a meeting I’ll say, Excuse us my lords, while I go feed my pet hobbit,” he teased giving the hobbit’s stomach another poke.

“Pet?” Bilbo yelped. “Who are you calling a pet?” he demanded.

“Toy?” offered Thorin even managing to keep a straight face.

Bilbo stopped walking and stood hands on hips glaring at Thorin.

“My little dumpling of love,” added Thorin giving Bilbo a sly grin.

“Thorin!” he yelled. “Where do you come up with this nonsense?”

The dwarf gave him a grin as he chuckled. “My sister’s husband Vili said that to my sister once,” he admitted offering Bilbo his hand so he would keep walking.

“Bet that went well.”

“If I remember correctly, he lost a couple of teeth when she punched him,” he said.

“I am going to love your sister!” declared Bilbo.

“I’m sure you will,” Thorin lamented. “You two will spend all your time picking on me.”

“And you’ll deserve every minute of it,” he said.

……………………………

“How are you?” asked Tauriel as she neared Legolas.

“I’m well. You?” he asked, eyeing the two dwarves following her.

She nodded and gave his arm a fond pat. “I’m doing much better,” she told him, turning to follow his gaze. “This is Bofur and Bifur.” Both dwarves nodded in greeting.

“He’s having your followed?”

“For my protection,” she explained. “There is an element in the dwarves from the Iron Hills that are not keen on the idea of an elf and a dwarf.”

“The King assigned body guards?”

She nodded but kept walking. “Would you like to join us?” she asked. “We’re headed out to hunt again.”

“Do you find anything this close to the mountain?” he asked glancing back curiously at Bifur.

“We have to range quite far,” she admitted.

“If we take the horses, we can go farther, faster.”

She nodded and turned back to look at the two dwarves. “Do you mind riding behind Legolas and I if we were to take the horses to reach new hunting grounds?”

Bifur and Bofur shared a quiet word before turning back and nodding. “We’ll ride with you,” said Bifur.

Legolas gave them a nod. He looked to the west where thick dark clouds hung low over the mountains. “Let’s bring supplies, just in case that storm doesn’t hold off,” he suggested.

A quick stop in the kitchen filled a pack with supplies that would keep. “This should be enough for a day or two,” said Bofur as he waved the pack at Tauriel.

She nodded. “I need to tell Kili I might not be back tonight,” she said turning to go.

“Wait for Bifur please,” called Bofur. “I’ll help the Prince with the ponies.” She paused to wait. “Take her up the back way,” he directed, pointing to the hallway behind the kitchen. “She should know it anyway.”

Tauriel and Legolas were both looking at him curiously. “Should you be telling me these things?” asked Legolas.

Bofur looked at him, as he were being simple. “Do you plan to cause mischief for the royals of Erebor?” he asked.

“Oh course not,” Legolas replied sounding slightly offended.

“Would you do anything to protect your friend if she was in trouble?” Bofur added.

Legolas glanced at Tauriel. “I would,” he said firmly.

“There ya go,” said Bofur as if it were only logical. “It was something you needed to know then,” he said firmly.

“Dwarves are strange,” he murmured giving Bofur an amused smile.

Tauriel gave him a cheeky grin. “They do grow on you,” she offered turning to follow Bifur to the back stairs.

When Legolas turned back, Bofur was smiling at him. “Come let’s go get the horses ready to go.”

Legolas gave him a nod and turned toward the stables. “Is she in real danger?” he asked, bending down so he could speak softly.

Bofur gave him a serious look and a solemn nod. “Later,” he murmured as he eyed a group of Iron Hill dwarves as they passed.

“Very well,” said the elf. “Let’s bring some rope so we can make a travois if we are lucky in the hunt.”

“Travois?” asked Bofur.

“It’s a type of sled a horse can drag. Easy to make and we can carry a large quantity of meat on it without tiring the horses too much,” he explained.

Bofur grinned. “That was as clear as mud,” he said with a jovial grin.

“When we get out of here, I’ll show you,” he said as he nodded at the dwarf in charge of the stables.

“What can I do for you?” asked the stable master.

“I’ll be taking out my horse and the bay that belongs to Tauriel,” he said turning back to Bofur. “We should grab a few blankets. If that storm hits, we’ll need them.”

Bofur nodded and headed back into the mountain.

The stable master brought out his horse and tied it to the hitching post. “Where are you going?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t know which way,” said Legolas absently as he set his saddle on the geldings back. “Tauriel knows which way to find game.”

“Do you think you might go to the south?”

Legolas glanced at the dwarf, who was watching him intently. “I don’t know,” he said.

“I heard a lot of hunting parties went north so there is probably plentiful game to the south,” he said firmly. “That would take you out of the path of the storm. South is the best way to go.”

Legolas gave him a confused glance and a nod. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he said hands tugging at the strap that tightened the girth.

Bofur returned and helped him finish readying the horses. They were just leading them out the gates, when Tauriel and Bifur caught up to them. Soon they were mounted and riding away from Erebor. “Which way?” asked Legolas.

Tauriel looked toward the south, then the north. “Either is going to be well hunted,” she said.

“The stable master seemed very interested in which way we were going. He kept pointing out that south was the better direction,” said Legolas.

Tauriel turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Then we go north,” she said firmly. Bifur who was sitting behind her nodded his agreement.

“Something you want to tell me?” asked Legolas curiously.

Tauriel shrugged. “I get an odd feeling from the dwarf in the stables,” she said. “Not sure which side he’s on.”

Legolas looked thoughtful eventually nodding to himself. “Let’s go hunting,” he said. “Hold on dwarf,” he warned before kicking his horse to a canter.

Tauriel laughed as she raced to catch up.

_______________________________

Nori sat behind the tent on a crate sharpening a dagger. Inside two dwarves were talking. “I don’t care if it will make him mad,” said the first dwarf.

“You don’t want to cross him!” hissed the second dwarf. “It’d bad for your health.”

“I was there when Dain spoke. He will brook no mutiny against the heir to Erebor’s throne,” the first dwarf said.

“What are you going to do?” asked the second dwarf.

“Dain is sending Derig and Godrin back to the Iron Hills in disgrace,” said the first dwarf. “I will ask to be assigned to the party taking them back. He can’t fault me if I was sent away by Dain himself.”

“He told us the heir was gold mad and not in his right mind.”

“He was presiding over the reports this morning,” said the first dwarf. “If he was ever gold mad, he is no longer,” he said. “The dwarf I saw this morning was fierce and sharp of eye, just like the stories say.”

“What about the line of Durin breeding outside of their kind?” demanded the second dwarf.

“The hobbit is male,” grumbled the first dwarf. “He can’t produce an heir. What do I care if the King under the Mountain wants to spend his nights buggering a hobbit? The elf I object to, but if the King is allowing their relationship, I will keep my mouth shut.”

“You’re a yellow-bellied coward,” spat the second dwarf.

“Take that back!” shouted the first dwarf.

“I call it like I see it!” the second dwarf yelled back.

The sound of swords being drawn was evidence of where the argument was headed. The sharp clang of metal on metal sounded once, twice and then the wet sound of steel sliding into flesh and the soft groan of the dying was heard. “Call me a coward will you,” snarled the first dwarf.

Nori waited quietly listening closely for the sound of retreating boots before ducking into the tent. Inside he found Bral lying in a pool of blood, sightless eyes staring up at white canvas. He’d been speaking to a dwarf named Grot. Absently Nori checked the dwarf’s pockets finding nothing that tied him to the plot to undermine Thorin. This news needed to be whispered in the correct ears, the sooner the better. Checking carefully to see if he was watched, he slipped out of the tent and headed back into Erebor.

_______________________________

Balin watched his brother put the recruits through their paces. They were getting better, but it was going slowly. He nodded when Dwalin noticed him. They needed to speak, but it would wait. Dwalin set the recruits to sparring in pairs and walked over to join him on the bench on the edge of the field.

“You have news,” asked Dwalin.

“Dori found thirty crates of rotten cloth in the tailor’s guild hall,” he informed his brother. The tattooed dwarf nodded. “Gloin found a bunch of empty crates in the blacksmith’s guild,” he said. “He reports the crates are in good shape and could be used to repack food stores.”

Dwalin sat nodding thoughtfully. “How do we get them into the royal wing unnoticed?”

“I thought you might be able to help with that,” he explained.

“Me?” he questioned. “I can’t move crates of rotten cloth by myself.”

Balin grinned at his brother. “Not you personally,” he scoffed. “Your recruits,” he said eyeing the men of Dale as they practiced. “Men are strong enough to move dwarven crates.”

Dwalin watched the recruits as they practiced. They were still terrible, but they worked hard and he was seeing some improvement. “When do you want the crates moved?”

“The caravan is arriving in the next two days, three at the most. Tonight would be ideal,” he said.

“I can do that,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Do you need any help?” asked Balin. “That’s a lot of crates to move.”

Dwalin shook his head. “I only need to know where to put them when I get them there.”

“I spoke to Thorin about that,” Balin said as he watched two boys run by headed for the ramparts. “He said use any of the rooms near the back stairs. They aren’t currently needed.”

Dwalin nodded and stood up. “Is dinner still on for the company tonight?”

“Bombur is making a feast,” beamed Balin. “It will be the first meal Thorin has been able to attend with the company and he wants to make it special.”

“Did he invite Dain and Bard?” he questioned.

“He invited Dain, but I don’t know about Bard. Why?”

“You had to have noticed him at lunch. Dain has been poking at Bilbo,” Dwalin informed him. “He keeps stirring that hornet’s nest and it’ll be a toss-up which of the two stings him first.”

Balin’s face split into a cheeky grin. “Thorin’s used to Dain’s ways,” he said. “My gold is on Bilbo threatening him with his letter opener.”

“You’re forgetting how protective Thorin is of those he considers his,” Dwalin reminded him. “It could very well be Thorin pinning the red-haired goblin to the wall with Orcrist.”

“Thorin can barely walk,” Balin pointed out.

Dwalin nodded in agreement. “Thorin in a snit wouldn’t notice if he had a sword skewering him until he’d dealt with whatever had gotten on his nerves.’

“True, true brother,” agreed Dwalin. “Perhaps we should keep Dain away from Bilbo this evening so we can avoid bloodshed during the meal?”

“Probably a good idea.” The two boys came running by going in the other direction. “Boy!” called Dwalin. The two boys stopped and looked at Dwalin suspiciously. “Come here a minute.” Dwalin pointed at the nearest one. The boy shared a glance with the other boy and sighed looking resigned. Eyes on the ground, he reluctantly came closer. Dwalin shared a grin with Balin at the boy’s guilty demeanor. They’d been up to something for sure. “Would you like to earn a coin boy?” he asked.

The boy looked up sharply trying to gauge his intentions before nodding. Dwalin dug in the pocket of his trews for a silver coin. He held it up to show the boy. “I need you to find Sigrid, Brand’s daughter,” he instructed. “Tell her I will meet her in the same place in an hour,” he said. “Can you do that?” The boy nodded eagerly and held up his hand. Dwalin pressed the coin to the boy’s palm. It quickly disappeared into a pocket as the boy took off at a run.

“Making friends are you?” teased his brother.

“He looked hungry,” he growled and turned to watch the recruits.

“Aye,” he agreed. “They all looked hungry when they arrived.”

_______________________________

Nori watched from his vantage point above the throne as Bilbo walked and Thorin hobbled down the long bridge that led to the throne. “Are you sure you should be walking this far in one go?” asked Bilbo. Nori grinned. The acoustics were perfect and he could hear Bilbo as if he were right there.

“I’m okay ghivashel,” he assured the hobbit, giving him a warm smile.

“Why are we here though?” he asked.

Thorin stopped and looked at the throne and then at Bilbo. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “I felt the urge to walk to the throne.”

Bilbo growled in annoyance, which only made Thorin grin. “Seriously,” he asked. “We’re on walking holiday to the throne because you felt like it?”

“Walking holiday?” repeated Thorin. “It’s not that far.”

“I could have returned to the Shire already if I’d gone in the other direction,” he complained.

That made Thorin laugh, which led to coughing and holding a hand over the wound in his gut. “No laughing,” he scolded. “It hurts so badly to laugh.” The coughing continued because it increased the pain, which increased the coughing. “And to cough.”

Bilbo stepped closer, hand rubbing over his back as he tried to soothe Thorin’s distress. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t think about it hurting if you laugh.”

The coughing finally subsided leaving Thorin standing with his hands braced on his thighs as he tried to calm his breathing. “You’re an evil hobbit,” he complained. “Torturing me in my convalescence.”

“I really am sorry,” he offered gesturing for Thorin to go the opposite direction.

“Come,” said Thorin as he stubbornly continued. “Now I have to sit down to rest.” He trudged stoically in the direction of the throne.

“By all the Valar!” scolded Bilbo. “Just turn around and go that way. Lots of comfortable seats that way,” he said one hand trying to gently turn the dwarf.

Thorin shook his head. “I have to sit on the throne now,” he challenged giving Bilbo a teasing look.

“Seriously?”

He nodded and kept walking. They were more than halfway across the bridge now and the throne was closer than whatever was behind them. Bilbo stopped walking pulling Thorin to a halt beside him. “What would it take to get you to turn around?”

Thorin stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Bilbo an impish grin plastered on his face. He leaned down and whispered in the hobbit’s ear. Straightening, he looked at Bilbo expectantly.

“You really think you’re up for that?” he asked. Thorin nodded eagerly. Bilbo considered him through narrowed eyes. “I will if Oin says it’s okay,” he qualified his acceptance.

Thorin’s grin grew wider. “If Oin says it’s okay,” he agreed turning around and walking the other way.

“Wait!” yelled Bilbo. “Did you walk out here, just to get me to agree to that?” he asked.

Thorin chuckled one hand carefully supporting his stomach. “No actually I didn’t,” he said. “But it would have been a good plan. Come let’s go find Oin.”

“Not wasting anytime enacting your dastardly plan are you?” scolded Bilbo.

“Don’t whine,” countered Thorin. “You’ll enjoy it too. I promise.”

Up above, Nori had a hand over his mouth trying to stifle his laughter as he watched their retreating forms. He could only imagine what Thorin had bargained for with the shrewd hobbit.

_______________________________

Strog ducked into the tent, surprised to find it occupied already. He gave the other occupant a curious glance before sitting in the second chair. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said with a respectful bow.

“I had to see if my plans would come to fruition,” said the man in the other chair.

Strog nodded. “I have done exactly as you asked,” he said confidently. “We will have him in our control in the next few days.”

The man nodded. “You have set up sufficient distraction that I will have time enough with him?”

Strog laughed. “What I have planned will set the entire mountain into an uproar,” he explained. “The alliance with the elves will break and Erebor will stand alone.”

The man in the chair looked thoughtful. “The first month is critical,” he explained. “I’m sure you remember your initiation.”

Strog stared at the man with adoration. “I remember,” he said bowing his head. “My fight was terrible because I didn’t understand.” He looked in the general direction of Erebor. “He will fight too, but he will understand eventually.”

The man in the chair smiled. What on another man would have lightened his countenance making him appear warm and approachable made the man on the chair appear frightening and quite possibly insane as the thick scar that pulled tight his cheek twisted his mouth into a monstrous parody of joy.

_______________________________

Dwalin made his way to his brother’s office but didn’t go inside. He ducked down the small alleyway across the way and wound his way through the buildings to the large open square in the middle of the area the men of Dale occupied.

Not many were hanging out in the square, but those that were smiled or nodded at him as he passed. The boy he’d sent ahead with a message waved as he ran by. He ducked through the doorway and headed down the stairs to his meeting.

As expected Sigrid was waiting, as was her father, Bard. He nodded at the leader of the men of Dale and took the seat where indicated.

“Newell brought word you wanted to speak with me,” said Sigrid giving him an amused smile. “I brought my Da because he’s the one you really need to be talking to.”

Dwalin nodded his agreement. “Lord Bard,” he greeted the man. “I am in need of assistance from the men of Dale if they would be so inclined to help this night.”

Bard shifted in his seat. “King Thorin knows you’re meeting with me?” he asked.

Dwalin shook his head. “Not specifically he doesn’t,” he admitted. “This is a continuation of the problem he spoke with you about the other day. This affects the dwarves of Erebor and the men of Dale so cooperation between us will be to our benefit in the long run.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

“We believe the dwarves trying to undermine Thorin will attack the food stores after the caravan delivers its goods. It was Bilbo’s suggestion that we hide the provisions and leave decoy crates of worthless goods in their place,” he explained. “We have located sufficient stores of damaged materials in the crafting halls, but we need help sneaking them into the royal wing.”

Bard smiled at the description of the plan. “You want to hide the food and fill the storeroom with what exactly?”

“Damaged cloth from the tailoring guild.”

“Where will you hide the food?”

“In the royal wing. Many of the apartments there are not being used and the back staircase from the kitchen area would make it easy to switch the food with the decoy crates,” he said.

“Bilbo came up with this?” asked Bard flashing an amused smile.

“He’s a clever little thing,” said Dwalin. Bard nodded in agreement.

“Is there anything else we can do to help?”

“When the caravan arrives, keep alert,” he told the man. “We don’t know exactly what they’re going to do. We’ll be guarding Bilbo and Tauriel very closely.”

Bard shared a look with Sigrid, who nodded solemnly. “We’ll keep our eyes open,” he assured the dwarf.

_______________________________

Bilbo was curled against Thorin’s side tucked under his arm, enjoying his warmth as the dwarf read the many reports that he’d received earlier. “I don’t see how you can keep reading those reports,” complained Bilbo. “They’re so dry and boring.”

Thorin set aside the paper he’d been reading to look at the hobbit. “If you’re bored, you could help me read these,” he offered. “It would make it go faster.”

“I can do that?” asked Bilbo curiously.

“If you want to,” Thorin assured him. “I’m not trying to make you do my work.”

“You’ll let me help?”

Thorin nodded. “Some reports might not make sense to you because you don’t know anything about the subject. For example, this report on the expected six month yield of grade two and grade three sapphires from the northern mine. If you want to learn, I am more than willing to teach you as we find time,” he explained.

“I don’t know anything about sapphires or mining,” he agreed. “What else do you have?”

Thorin picked up the pile of reports and leafed through them. “Housing, state of the library and archives, water availability,” he read as he pulled reports from the stack. Bilbo accepted them eagerly. Thorin handed him a metal pen and a pot of ink. “Read it, summarize it and write a recommendation on the last page,” Thorin explained as he picked up the report he’d been working on.

“You want me to make recommendations?” asked Bilbo clearly unsure about that idea.

Thorin made a sound of agreement. His attention was on the paper in his hand. “If you’re comfortable making a recommendation,” he explained. “Most of this is just common sense. If you don’t know, then leave it or ask me.”

“What if I make a wrong decision?” he asked.

Thorin set down his report and turned to look at Bilbo. “Unless you recommend we abandon Erebor, then I doubt you could make a wrong decision. Most of these reports are very straightforward. Housing will be about needed repairs, cleaning and eventual allocation. You’ll recommend how many resources to apply to whatever problem. In this case your resources are bodies to do the work,” he clarified.

“Sounds simple enough,” he said.

Thorin shook his head. “It is and it isn’t. You have to balance your resources, whether they be bodies or supplies so many projects can be dealt with quickly and efficiently.”

“It’s kind of like a puzzle?”

Thorin tilted his head as considered Bilbo’s words. “That is one way of looking at,” he agreed.

“I love puzzles,” murmured Bilbo as he opened the first report.

_______________________________

Comparing reports, he scrutinized the difference in figures. There shouldn’t be that much discrepancy. Beyond curious, he turned both reports back to their opening pages. One was written by Gloin and the other was by a dwarf he didn’t recognize from the Iron Hills. He leafed through each report keeping a watchful eye out for major differences. As he investigated, it became painfully clear that the report from the Iron Hills dwarf was padded with outrageous figures for the time needed to complete projects. The increased number of dwarf hours on a project increased the cost.

A soft snore drew his attention from the papers he studied. Glancing over he found Bilbo sound asleep and covered in reports. In sleep, he looked younger and carefree. Brushing a finger down the line of his jaw, Thorin marveled on the softness of his skin. At first meeting, the hobbit’s lack of facial hair had been off putting. Every look brought to mind the soft, bare face of a newborn dwarf bairn.

Time and experience had changed his opinion of the hobbit. The small creature he’d thought of as elf-like and weak proved to be one of the most fair-minded and brave beings he’d ever had the privilege to meet in all his travels across Middle earth. He wasn’t as physically strong as a dwarf was but he was cunning and quick. Thorin had come to appreciate the hobbit for his ability not to think like a dwarf. Where a dwarf faced a problem head on and defeated it with the strength of his arm and the sharpness of steel, the hobbit used his mind, unassuming nature and his quick reflexes.

Many times during the journey, he’d been surprised by the solutions the hobbit saw that never occurred to him because he saw problems as something to be defeated or beaten in to submission. The hobbit was a good match for him specifically because he wasn’t dwarf like.

Another soft snore made him grin and scoot down so he could see Bilbo better. Thick fingers caressed the bead that rested on the hobbit’s neck. The mithril color highlighted the honey color of his hair and the sharper color of the gem inlay was a beautiful counterpoint. The next soft snore snuffled off as he shifted, rolling toward Thorin.

“Why are you staring at me?” Bilbo asked, opening one bleary eye to peer at the dwarf.

“You are adorable ghivashel,” he stated, reaching out to brush a finger along the top of one slightly pointed ear, which twitched under the gentle touch. The soft hitch in Bilbo’s breath snapped Thorin’s attention to the hobbits mouth. “Your ears are sensitive?” he asked his voice soft and warm.

“Mmmhmm,” confirmed Bilbo. “Touching ears is an intimate thing for hobbits.”

“Truly touching your ears is arousing?” he parroted voice warmly curious.

Bilbo nodded over a sleepy sigh. Opening his eyes he blinked slowly at Thorin, who was watching him with a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Is that strange?”

Thorin shook his head. “No,” he replied, finger gently tracing toward that gentle point again.

Bilbo groaned eyes sliding shut as a tremor shook his small frame. “That’s lovely,” he murmured snuggling down into his pillow. “Are dwarf ears as sensitive?” he asked.

Thorin hummed in agreement, his hand sliding back to tangle in honey-colored curls. “Dwarf ears are sensitive,” he confirmed. “Not quite in the way hobbit ears are though,” he explained. “Rubbing a dwarf’s ears is relaxing and sometimes it’s used to put dwarflings to sleep. Kili used to nod right off if you rubbed his ears gently.”

“So if I rubbed your ears you’d fall asleep?” asked Bilbo.

“It’s calming,” he offered though he didn’t clarify.

“Is this the trick to getting you to rest?” he inquired with an amused smirk.

“Why do I feel you’re going to use this against me?” he asked.

Bilbo looked affronted. “I’d never do that,” he scoffed.

Thorin patted his shoulder. “I know Bilbo, peace,” he soothed. “I was merely teasing.”

The hobbit gave him a serious look. “You’ll have to let me know what you like,” he said.

Eyes twinkling with amusement, he gave Bilbo a warm smile. “It’s more fun if you discover it for yourself, but I will tell you when I like what you’re doing,” he purred.

“That sounds like-“ he started to say when a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Bilbo heaved an irritated sigh. “Who is it?” he yelled.

The door opened and the distinctive shuffle thump of Fili’s crutch announced their guest. “Are you coming to dinner?” he asked when he was far enough around the door to see them. “Bombur made a feast I hear. Everyone is excited to see you Uncle.”

Thorin and Bilbo shared a look, before Thorin rolled over and carefully pushed himself up. “A feast?” he asked giving his nephew a warm smile.

“Hardly anyone in the company has seen you in more than two weeks,” he reminded his Uncle.

“I know,” he said working his way to the edge of the bed, stopping twice to move reports to the small table beside the bed. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Fili gave Bilbo a thoughtful look before nodding at his Uncle and hobbling back out the door.

Bilbo climbed off the bed and moved around to stand by Thorin. “Ready for this?” he asked.

“It’s just the company,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”

“No Dain?” asked Bilbo a hopeful look lighting up his eyes.

“And Dain.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and sighed. “I will be polite,” he murmured to himself.

Thorin grinned. “You’re welcome to ignore him if you want,” he informed him. “I really don’t care.”

Bilbo gave him a shrewd look. “As nice as that sounds, my hobbit sensibilities won’t let me be that rude.”

“We’ll see. Dain can be rather annoying,” teased Thorin as he held the door open for Bilbo.

The hobbit shook his head. “I wish he’d just leave me be,” he lamented.

“That’s half his fun,” Thorin explained guiding Bilbo to the back stairs, which would make their journey shorter. “He’s doing it to annoy you.”

The trip going down to the kitchen area went quickly. Bilbo was feeling better, but even he felt weak and grew tired easily after an extended convalescence. The return trip up the stairs wasn’t something he looked forward to. Following the sounds of a gathering led them to the room the company had claimed for their feast. The sound was comforting and it wasn’t until that moment he realized how much he’d missed the other dwarves. Months of travel had made the sound and sights of the company his norm. A sharp pang of loneliness slid into his chest as he listened to the familiar merriment in the room ahead.

Bilbo didn’t realize he’d stopped, until Thorin’s hand on his arm caught his attention. “Are you okay?” he asked.

He sighed and tried to decide how to explain. Glancing up, he could see understanding in Thorin’s eyes. He’d missed them too. Their travel and shared misfortunes bound the company together into something more, something rather like a family. He gave his dwarf a nod and a reassuring smile. “I’m okay,” he said. “Just remembering.”

Thorin smiled warmly, he felt it too. “Let’s go,” he urged.

They stepped into the familiar cacophony of the company. It took those already in the room a few seconds to notice their arrival, but soon exuberant calls of “Bilbo!” and “Thorin!” were heard.

Dori was the first to reach them. “Look at you two!” he exclaimed sweeping Bilbo into a hug that lifted him off his feet. Setting the hobbit aside, he turned to Thorin. “I’ll not hug you because of your wound,” he said as he bumped his forehead to the dwarfs.

Thorin gave the silver-haired dwarf a wry grin and reached for the next friend coming to offer a greeting. Bilbo was squeezed, squished and patted quite vigorously by the time they’d all said their hello’s and offered best wishes.

Once everyone began to return to their seats, Thorin noticed Kili sitting near the head of the table. “Kili?” Making his way down the table, he only had eyes for his dark-haired nephew.

“I’m finally up,” he said with a tired smile.

“Should you be up?” asked Thorin. “You’ve been so ill. Almost every time I asked you were asleep.”

Kili hummed a sound of agreement. “Lord Elrond feels I’m doing much better,” he explained. “He said if I didn’t tire myself out then I could come tonight.” Thorin took the seat at the end of the table right next to his nephew and pulled him into a one armed hug. “I don’t feel nauseous anymore,” he clarified.

“My boy,” murmured Thorin bending down to press his forehead to Kili’s “You’re strong.”

“What’d he say?” yelled Oin. “What did the boy do wrong?”

Gloin shook his head at his brother’s lack of understanding as the company all laughed.

Bilbo moved to take the seat next to Thorin until Fili stopped him. “Sit by Kili,” he said. “He wants to talk to you.”

The hobbit looked to Kili who was gesturing to the seat next to him. “How can I turn down the best seat in the house?” he quipped. Fili took the seat Bilbo abandoned.

Once Bilbo was seated, Kili leaned over to press his forehead to the hobbits a hand rising to cradle honey colored curls. “Thank you for saving Uncle,” he said.

Bilbo swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat and pulled the dwarf into a proper hug. “You’re welcome,” he murmured into Kili’s shoulder.

Kili pulled back first, enough that he could see the bead in Bilbo’s hair. “I see Thorin offered you a bead,” he observed.

Bilbo’s hand rose to touch the cool metal of his bead. “He did,” he agreed his mouth curving up in a pleased smile.

Kili nodded and grinned his approval. “I’m glad he’s courting you,” he told Bilbo. “We all think you’re good for each other.”

“The whole company?” asked Bilbo.

Kili nodded. “Uncle is often much too serious. You make him smile and relax,” he said.

Bilbo smiled faintly. “You are doing well?” he asked. “Truly doing well?”

Kili nodded. “Elrond said the signs of the poison are starting to fade. I feel much better, though I can’t eat much yet.” He gestured to his mostly empty plate. “I needed Dwalin’s help to get down here.”

Two sharp claps drew everyone’s attention. Bombur stood in the door waiting for everyone’s attention. “Find a seat,” he urged. “Food’s coming out.”

Everyone moved to find a place to sit. Bilbo watched the jostling and shoving warily in case it moved in his direction. A touch on his shoulder distracted him drawing his attention back to Kili. The dwarf leaned down lips brushing the hobbit’s ear. “When you’re ready to craft your bead, Fili and I will help,” he said.

Bilbo sat up with a smile and a nod. Someone taking the seat beside him jostled him. Curious, he glanced up to find Dwalin taking the seat next to him. He smiled at the dour warrior who gave him a solemn nod. “He is looking well,” Dwalin said casting a glance at Thorin who was deep in conversation with Fili.

“He says he’s feeling much better,” said Bilbo.

Dwalin nodded. “You’re good for him,” he explained. “We would have had a heck of a time keeping him in bed without you in it. He’s a terrible patient.”

Bilbo gave him a sardonic look. “Thorin?” he retorted his voice heavy with sarcasm. “He’s a model patient.” The hobbit held a straight face as long as he could, but soon a jaunty grin escaped, matched by the amused one Dwalin wore. “I suppose if I can help the mighty Thorin Oakenshield recover by sharing his bed, then I’ll do what I must though it pains me. Such is my sacrifice for the good of Erebor,” he jested.

“Your sacrifice is appreciated,” interjected Thorin giving Bilbo a mock glare. Bilbo grinned at his cheek.

“Good to see you up cousin,” greeted Dain settling in the seat across from Bilbo.

Bilbo’s face fell and he suddenly became busy studying the large array of dishes now on the table.

“Bilbo you are looking well this evening,” the red-haired dwarf said.

He glanced up briefly and nodded politely. “Thank you.” Chancing a glance at Thorin, he found the dwarf watching him closely. He gave Bilbo a questioning look, but he gave him a small shake of his head. He was fine for the moment. Nothing to worry about here.

The noise in the room increased as everyone grabbed a dish as if by some silent signal and started filling plates. The cacophony of it all was a bit much if you weren’t used to it. Bilbo smiled happily at the rowdy dwarves as they ate and drank. He’d definitely missed this since the battle.

Dwalin was shoving a dish at him and he found himself too busy passing dishes and serving himself to worry about the Lord of the Iron Hills. He kept a weather eye out for flying food and was grateful when Dwalin’s big paw intercepted a piece of something he hadn’t noticed as he answered a question from Kili. He gave the dour warrior a smile of thanks and he in turn nodded back.

Balin and Bofur took seats on either side of Dain and seemed to take turns monopolizing his attention. Halfway through the meal Bilbo began to suspect they were keeping the red-haired dwarf busy so he couldn’t talk to him. A sly wink from Balin when they shared a glance confirmed it. He could only beam at the white-haired dwarf in thanks.

The plates were emptied quickly though all looked ready for more. Bombur appeared with his kitchen helpers, hands full of a great assortment of sweet dishes. Kili accept a dish from a passing server setting it beside Bilbo’s plate. “Have some,” he urged gesturing to the sweet.

Bilbo gave it a cursory glance only to find a perfect apple crisp with caramel sauce drizzled over the top. He looked up sharply at the dwarf, who was grinning at him. “He made it for me?” he asked clearly surprised.

Kili nodded. “He remembered when you described it to us that night,” he explained. “He took notes on everything.”

Bilbo blinked back tears as he waved at the heavyset dwarf. “Thank you!” he exclaimed. A glance at Thorin showed his dwarf smiling at him, eyes twinkling with delight.

Kili pulled him into a one armed hug. “We owe all of this to you, you know?” he asked. Raising his tankard, he gestured for the others to raise theirs. “To Bilbo!” he cheered.

“Bilbo!” they all cheered.

“To the burglar,” added Thorin giving Bilbo a fond smile when he glanced over.

“Burglar!” cheered the dwarves, always happy for any reason to celebrate.

Grinning like a loon, Bilbo fought the embarrassment being the center of attention made him feel, but he knew his cheeks must be flaming red. They sure felt like it. Under the sharp spike of embarrassment was a river of contentment and joy. Unlike in the Shire, he finally felt like he really belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta reader so all typo's and gramatical errors, no matter how funny or stupid are on me.


	6. Fool Me Once

“Did you see where they went?” Tauriel asked Legolas. They peered over the ridge into the valley below watching a group of dwarves who disappeared from sight.

Legolas studied the rock formations on the opposite side of the valley. “They went behind those rocks,” he said. “I didn’t see them come out again.”

Bifur tapped on Tauriel’s leg drawing her attention. She looked down at the dwarf seated against the rock between her and the elven prince. “Maybe a cave?” he asked keeping his voice soft. He glanced at Bofur who nodded in agreement.

“That would make sense,” Bofur murmured. “If they went behind the rocks but didn’t come back out, there must be somewhere behind there they’re going.”

Legolas crouched down to Bifur’s level. “If that’s true, then we can’t go check it out until after dark,” he pointed out. “There is no cover between here and there.”

Bofur leaned forward so he could see around Tauriel’s legs. “We should find somewhere safe to camp for the night then?” he half asked, half declared.

Tauriel turned and sat down between the two dwarves. “There were caves not more than a couple of miles from here,” she said. “I saw them when we traveled across the last cliff.” She pointed in the general direction of the caves. “If the caves are big enough or deep enough, we might be able to have a fire and not be seen tonight.”

“We’ll come back after dark to see what they’re up to?” asked Bifur.

Shaking his head, Legolas looked from dwarf to dwarf. “Tauriel and I should come back because we can be quieter.”

“You can’t leave us to do nothing!” protested Bifur.

“We won’t be long,” Tauriel explained. “We’ll come back. Get close enough to see if there is a cave and come right back.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” grumbled Bofur.

“That was never in question Master Dwarf,” said Legolas with an amused smile. “I am not disparaging your size or abilities, but we have longer legs and can get around faster and quieter. Why put any of us in danger, when we can be in and out without notice.”

Bifur shared a look with his cousin, who shrugged. “Fine,” said the older dwarf. “If you’re captured, we won’t be there to help though.”

“We’ll be on our way back to Erebor in the morning,” assured Tauriel. “Perhaps we can get a couple more deer before then.”

The dwarves perked up at her words. Bringing in a large quantity of meat as a worthy task. “A couple more stags would be nice to contribute to the kitchens.” Bifur nodded in agreement.

“Legolas, we should split up to cover more ground,” said Tauriel.

Legolas glanced at the dwarves, but they were busy muttering to each other about more meat. “We should,” he agreed. There was safety and wisdom in splitting a party where there might be hostilities. If some of the group was captured the other could still get back and report.

“Let’s go,” said Bifur suddenly. “We’ll travel to the caves and then search west of here for game.”

The elves nodded and moved away at a crouch so they wouldn’t be seen from the valley.

It didn’t take them long to find the caves Tauriel spoke of. Two of the caves were deep enough to shelter in, but not deep enough to be unseen. The third cave was even shallower, but in the back, there was jagged rock that concealed a fissure big enough for the horses to walk through. The natural tunnel behind wound around in a crescent shape before opening into a larger chamber. It would be big enough to have a fire and keep the horses out of sight. There were a few small ledges that the dwarves placed glowing crystals on illuminating the space somewhat. It was only as bright as dusk, but it was enough to see where to step or not run into the walls.

“Let’s gather up some wood and then we can go hunting,” instructed Bifur.

They split into two groups. One went to get wood and the other looked for water or small game. Both groups returned within twenty minutes. Bofur and Legolas both had armloads of wood, but Bifur and Tauriel found neither water nor small game.

“We’ll go west and look for both after we have camp set up,” said Legolas.

“Put the ones we already have in the cave?” asked Tauriel.

“It would be better to hang them but I think we’re too close to the other dwarves to do that,” said Bifur. “We can put them in the tunnel before the cave. It will stay cooler there tonight with the fire in the big cavern.”

Bifur and Bofur dragged the large travois in by themselves. Tauriel watched them curiously, as they worked. “I knew dwarves were stronger,” she said. “I didn’t realize just how much.”

Bofur laughed and gave her a saucy eyebrow waggle. “You will soon enough,” he said with a chuckle turning back to walk outside.

Tauriel’s cheeks reddened at the meaning behind his words. Dwarves were much more open about bodily functions that elves tended to keep private. She’d grown used to the innuendo and ribald comments they teased with when they spoke, but when it was directed at her, she still blushed fiercely.

Legolas chuckled at her discomfort. She glared at him. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I imagine you’ll grow accustomed to him soon enough,” he said mirroring what the dwarf said.

Choking and coughing in her discomfort, she tried to glare at her friend, but the effect was ruined by her struggle to breath. He gave her a firm slap on the back as he laughed. She growled in disgust and stomped out of the cave his laughter nipping at her heels.

“Let’s go,” she snapped at Bifur, who cast a worried look at Bofur. A sharp stream of Khuzdul later and Bifur was struggling not to grin. Tauriel looked down at him from her horse. “Do you have something to say too?” she demanded. He shook his head as he tried to keep a straight face. She offered him a hand up. “Not a word,” she hissed barely letting him settle before she raced off.

After a few minutes, she slowed her horse to a walk letting the animal cool down. Bifur patted her shoulder. “Bofur didn’t mean to embarrass you lass,” he said kindly. “We are not accustomed to people who are not as open about sexuality as dwarves,” he explained.

“I will adapt,” she said.

He nodded. “I imagine you will,” he said. “We mean no harm.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “I know there is no harm intended,” she said. “Elves are not so open so at times it’s a little surprising.” Tauriel had nothing else to say about it and Bifur seemed to sense she’d reached her limit and didn’t bring it up again.

**_______________________________**

Little prompting was necessary to get Kili to trade places with his uncle. A gentle shove from Dwalin, pushed Bilbo’s chair against Thorins. Bilbo’s glare didn’t faze the scarred warrior who merely grinned unrepentantly back. A thick arm pulled him against the firm body of his dwarf. “Would you be willing to share your treat with me?” purred Thorin’s rich baritone against his ear.

The warm thickness of his voice made Bilbo want to turn and crawl on his lap.  He cast self-conscious glances at everyone around him. It was his irrational worry that they knew what he was thinking. Turning against Thorin, his eyes darted to the dwarf’s and he could only nod as he tried desperately not to blush. Hands busy and eyes down, he served Thorin a large portion. The dwarf was probably fonder of apples than Bilbo and agreed that they made the best dessert.

A warm smile curled up Thorin’s mouth, keen eyes watched Bilbo as he fidgeted. He didn’t miss his hobbit tucking himself firmly against his side.

“Do you want to go talk after dinner?” asked Dwalin.

Thorin shared a look with his best friend over Bilbo’s head. “That would be pleasant,” he agreed. “Bringing everyone?” he asked curiously.

One shoulder lifted in a diffident shrug. “Nothing important to discuss,” said Dwalin. “Nice to share an evening with the company. We haven’t been able to since the battle and they’ve missed you two and your nephews.” Thorin looked around at the company gathered around them and gave him a look that asked how it would be different from now. “Somewhere more comfortable,” qualified Dwalin.

“Ah. Lounge in the royal wing?” he asked.

Dwalin nodded. “More private too,” he added.

The feel of a small hand resting on his thigh pulled Thorin’s focus back to the hobbit. Bilbo looked up, offering him a bite. Green eyes widened marginally, watching him intently as he took the bite, wrapping his lips around the fork. Bilbo pulled the fork back slowly, nose flaring when Thorin’s tongue darted out to lick at a pastry crumb. Leaning closer, Thorin murmured. “Delicious.”

Bilbo swallowed thickly and nodded in agreement. Realizing others might be watching them, he turned to survey the group pink tinging his cheeks. Everyone was careful not to look at them, though Thorin had noticed several watching curiously, when Bilbo first offered him a bite. If anyone found it odd that Bilbo fed Thorin from his own plate every few bites they didn’t comment. However, if Bilbo had been paying more attention he would have noticed the amused grins and knowing looks.

Most of the company finished and were talking and joking as they waited for the others to finish. Sighing in contentment, Bilbo leaned into Thorin as he pushed his plate away. He’d finished three large servings before he was done.

“Ready to go back?” asked Thorin absently watching Nori argue with Dori.

“Are you?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin nodded. “It’s a longer walk to go back.” Bilbo nodded and started to stand, but Thorin’s hand on his arm stopped him. Careful of his injury, Thorin stood and waited until everyone grew quiet. It didn’t take them long to notice Thorin stood waiting to speak. “If anyone is interested, we’re going to go spend some time in the lounge in the royal wing.”

The talk returned immediately as everyone stood and moved to join Thorin. Bilbo stood and took the hand he offered. Everyone parted as if by some silent signal as Thorin made his way to the door. Before stepping through the door, Bilbo turned to look. The company trailed behind them in small groups.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” he called the hobbits attention back to him. They left the kitchen area toward the main walkway in the center of Erebor.

Bilbo nodded absently as he watched two men who were watching them from an open space across the great walkway.

“Why are those men watching us,” he asked.

Thorin looked where directed and eyed the two men curiously. Noticing his attention, both men bowed their heads to Thorin. “I believe they’re guards,” he said.

Bilbo was quiet as they walked toward the ramp that would give them access to the royal wing. “How are you feeling?” he asked when they began their trip up the ramp.

“I’m okay Bilbo,” he said giving him a tolerant smile.

“Any pain?”

“No pain,” he reassured him. “Come,” he urged. “Let’s catch up with our friends.”

Bilbo leaned in close. “Is Dain coming?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “Don’t worry about Dain. If he is being a pest, I’ll have the guard take him outside and behead him,” he stated.

Bilbo stopped, mouth open in shock. “You are joking right?”

Thorin gave Bilbo’s hand a tug, but he didn’t move. “Maybe?” he offered. “You don’t care for him. Would it matter?” he asked with a devilish grin.

“I don’t want him dead,” he scolded.

“That’s good to hear,” said Dain as he passed them on his way up the ramp. He looked back over his shoulder at Bilbo who was turning bright red at having been caught discussing the red-haired dwarf.

“Thorin!” he growled imbuing the word with both anger and embarrassment.

“Peace Bilbo,” said Thorin tugging Bilbo up the ramp. “He takes no offense. Dwarves have thick skins,” he explained as he put an arm around the hobbit’s shoulders. “Seriously, I’ll make him stop if he’s bothering you.”

At the top of the ramp, Thorin nodded to the guards when they bowed. A hand on the small of his back lead Bilbo to a portion of the wall that opened up as double doors. Beyond them was a hallway he hadn’t known existed. “Just how large is the royal wing?” he asked peering down the unexplored hallway. “I didn’t know this hallway was here.”

“There are more rooms above us,” explained Thorin. “There is a staircase to the next level near the common area at the end of this hallway.”

“There is a level above this one?”

Thorin nodded as he steered Bilbo through the open doors. “There are several apartments and the King’s wing on the second level.” Several of the company passed them heading down the hallway including Dori, who carried Kili.

Bilbo stopped to stare at Thorin. “The room we’ve been sleeping in isn’t where the King would live?”

Shaking his head Thorin looked up. “The King’s wing is several times larger than the suite of rooms we’ve been occupying.”

“Will you move there?”

“We will move there when they are made ready,” he clarified. Brow furrowing, Thorin paused as he considered his next words. “Did you want your own rooms?” he asked keeping his face carefully neutral.

Bilbo gave him an odd look. “No,” he said firmly his face going stoney. “Is it not accepted that I would live in the same rooms as you? Some sort of dwarf custom?”

“There is no custom that the King’s mate doesn’t live with him, quite the opposite actually,” he explained. “I had to wonder. You asked if I would move there and not if we would move there,” he pointed out.

“You are the King,” said Bilbo. “Everything is about you. I figured I would just tag along.”

“You are the consort,” stated Thorin.

“I’m not the consort yet,” he corrected.

“I haven’t been crowned King under the Mountain yet.”

Bilbo gave him an odd look. “It is your birthright,” he stated. “It will happen. You will be crowned King under the Mountain.”

Thorin nodded once. “And you will be my consort, second only to me in command of Erebor,” he said firmly. Bilbo’s face went blank at his pronouncement. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

“What?” he asked surprised by Thorin’s question. “Why would you ask that?”

Thorin looked away as he taking a moment to order his thoughts. “All of this has happened so fast. I fear I am rushing you into this,” he explained. “I don’t doubt you or our feelings for each other,” he clarified. His fingers fiddled with Bilbo’s bead as he spoke. “You’ve led a simpler life. One that I envy at times,” he said. “Being my consort will be more complicated than your previous life. Your responsibilities will be greater as will the rewards. I am not just the King of the Longbeard clan. I am the King of all seven dwarf kingdoms. My responsibility is too all dwarves not just my clan. It is a lot to take on even for someone who was raised to rule. I have every faith in your ability to help me, but it is not your responsibility and I would understand if you did not want it.”

Bilbo looked thoughtful as he considered what Thorin said. “I don’t really see it that way I guess,” he said. “Logically I know you are King and it’s a great responsibility. I don’t really see you as my King in the way that dwarves do. They defer to you. They follow your orders. They let you make major decisions for them. I never have though. I see Thorin, a broody, sometimes silly, always cuddly and handsome dwarf. When I think of the future, I see myself helping my partner not a King. I don’t understand about consorts and kingdoms and clans,” he explained. He paused waiting to see if Thorin had anything to add.

“In the Shire, I was a landlord to many. I managed the properties my tenants rented. I took care of my tenants when they needed a little extra help. That is how I was raised. I had a responsibility to all of my tenants and to the Shire. This seems much the same to me only on a much larger scale. My only concern is my lack of understanding of the intricacies of dwarven culture and the formality of court. I would rather not embarrass you if I can help it.”

Thorin pulled Bilbo close and tucked him against his chest. “While you might not know all the intricacies of dwarven culture as you say, you are kind and mannerly,” he said. “You will not embarrass me ghivashel. Ask me, Balin or Fili and Kili if you have questions. Any of the company will help you as best they can at any time.” Raising a hand, he threaded his fingers through honey-colored curls and tipped his head so he could nuzzle those curls. “As we work to get Erebor functioning there will be very little formality. Later when we are again a thriving stronghold, we can both worry about silly things like ritual and formality. I have spent much of my life wandering Middle Earth. I have forgotten much of the rules of court drilled into me as a dwarfling. We’ll learn together,” he declared. “It will give Balin, something to do.”

Bilbo chuckled softly, turning his face into Thorin’s chest enjoying a moment of quiet. “Shall we go see the company?” he asked turning so he could look up at Thorin.

Thorin hummed a sound of agreement and pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. “We’re clear then?” he asked. “We’re moving into the King’s wing and you are not going to run away and leave me here all alone?” he asked sounding suddenly vulnerable.

Bilbo’s arms slid around Thorin’s waist though he was careful not to squeeze. “I’m rather fond of you my ridiculous dwarf. I will live with you in the King’s wing as long as I can have space for books and a desk. I have no intention of running off. If I have anywhere to go, I’ll be sure to inform you. Is something else the matter?” he prompted.

Thorin let out a deep sigh wrapping both arms around his hobbit and resting his chin on his head. “Last night I dreamt that I woke up from this.” He made a vague gesture at everything around them. “And it was only a fever dream,” he said his voice soft and thick with emotion. “I woke up from the dream to find I was dying a slow and painful death from the wound Azog gave me. You, Fili and Kili were lost in the battle. I won Erebor back at the cost of everything I hold dear.”

“It’s just a dream,” murmured Bilbo burrowing against Thorin and raising his arms so he was hugging him around the chest. “We’re all just fine.”

“I know it was a dream,” he replied. “It upset me because it could have easily been true.”

“We can’t prevent all the bad things Thorin,” he reminded his dwarf. “We’ll make Erebor as safe as we can and try to keep an eye out for bad things before they happen,” he said decisively.

“You sound very sure of yourself,” quipped Thorin.

“We kicked a dragon out of your mountain my King,” said Bilbo giving him a saucy wink. “We’re ready for the next challenge don’t you think?”

Thorin’s hand went to his stomach as he struggled not to laugh. “No laughing Bilbo,” he scolded even as he grinned.

“Oh Thorin,” he soothed. “I’m sorry.” His small hand was gentle over the Thorin held to his stomach.

“Always torturing me,” he complained.

“I’m not torturing you, you ridiculous dwarf,” he chided. “I’m sure I could do a better job of it if I were trying to torture you.”

“You owe me double now,” he challenged.

“I really don’t see how you think you’re going to be up for-“

“Just try me!” Thorin declared. “I’ll show you how ready I am,” he boasted, pushing himself to stand upright without flinching.

“And now you’re being outrageous,” reprimanded Bilbo. “You’re going to end up opening your wound and then you’ll be back in bed you ninny.”

“Ninny?” repeated Thorin. “What’s a ninny? I don’t know that word.”

Bilbo made a sound of disbelief. “It’s a foolish person,” he clarified.

“Ah,” said Thorin. “If I’m being insulted I like to know what the insult is,” he said with an amused smile.

“Ha!” he jeered. “If I was insulting you, then you’d know it!”

Thorin grinned down at the hobbit giving him the mock glare. “Kiss me,” he murmured his voice growing warm and thick.

Bilbo’s eyes dilated with the change of Thorin’s tone. “Not sure you deserve one you silly dwarf,” he challenged.

Thorin raised a hand to brush a finger along Bilbo’s jaw toward his ear. The hobbit trembled at his touch. The corner of his mouth lifted with feral amusement at his response. “Doesn’t matter little hobbit,” he smirked. “I want one.” He leaned down closer, eyes meeting and holding Bilbo’s gaze. The hobbit rose to meet him, eyes eager, and hands reaching for him.

Eyelashes fluttered closed with the gentle brush of his lips over Bilbos. A soft gasp was all the invitation he needed, his mouth crushed the hobbits, breathe mingled, tongue sweeping in to taste his sweetness and groaning at the overwhelming sensation of kissing him properly. Leaning into the kiss, he used his larger size to maneuver him backwards. The unexpected meeting of his back with the wall drove a startled sound from Bilbo. Eyes popping open, he looked up at Thorin lips parting with a puff of air. Bracing his arms on either side of Bilbo’s head, gentle hands guided the hobbit to tip his chin up. Needing to get closer, Thorin improvised and slid his feet back allowing him to kiss Bilbo without bending over and keeping his stomach from stretching.

“Thorin!” Bilbo said. His mouth opened to say more but Thorin didn’t let him speak. Lips slanting over the hobbits, his tongue licked slowly over his full, lower lip. Bilbo’s soft groan was lost in Thorin’s mouth when he delved inside tongue exploring. Clumsy hands grabbed at Thorin’s tunic scrabbling at the material before managing to take a handful and tugging. The corner of his mouth quirked up at Bilbo’s eagerness. Bilbo pushed up trying to get closer, his tongue following into Thorin’s mouth eagerly exploring. Thorin hummed in appreciation, thick fingers weaving into honey curls steading the hobbit.

The sharp sound of a throat clearing made them freeze. Thorin’s loud exhale of annoyance was loud in the quiet hallway. He tipped his head and pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s as a beleaguered sigh escaped him. “By Mahal’s hairy backside!” he snarled. “Is it too much to ask for a little privacy?”

“Perhaps if ya weren’t in the hall?” challenged Dain.

Bilbo’s hands on his tunic jerked and pulled, hard. Thorin straightened and stepped forward, concealing much of Bilbo from sight. “What do you want Dain?” he scowled as his hands gently pried Bilbo’s hands from his tunic.

“Are you coming upstairs?” Dain asked clearly amused.

“You had to stop and ask me that?” he demanded, stepping so he stood between Bilbo and Dain.

“It’s a public hallway,” said the red-haired dwarf.

“No more Dain,” he cautioned coolly. Bilbo stood behind him and couldn’t see the not so subtle look of warning he gave the red-haired dwarf.

Dain studied him, gauging his sincerity, before nodding once and stepping around them.

Thorin moved, keeping himself between Bilbo and Dain until the other dwarf disappeared from sight only then did he turn around with a tired sigh. “Sorry about that,” he murmured tugging Bilbo close.

“It is very uncomfortable,” said Bilbo.

“He’s not usually quite that much of an ass,” Thorin pointed out. “You’re being ridiculously mannerly.”

“Ridiculously mannerly?” he protested. “How can having manners be ridiculous?”

Thorin’s mouth turned up in an amused smile. “When you adhere to manners to your detriment you silly hobbit,” he said. “Give Dain the sharp side of your tongue and be done with it. It’s probably what he wants anyway. He really does love to argue.”

Eyes closing with an aggrieved sigh, he shook his head. “Maybe when I know him better,” he said. “My manners,” he said purposefully emphasizing the words. “Won’t allow me to act that way to someone I hardly know.”

“I see,” teased Thorin. “You’ll pinch, hit and bully me, but not Dain who is being an annoying ninny.”

“I'm proud you're using your new words,” said Bilbo giving Thorin a fond grin. “And you need someone to give you a poke occasionally to make you behave.”

The smile on Thorin’s face turned into a libidinous leer. “We’ll see who’s poking who my adorable little hobbit,” he said leaning down over Bilbo crowding him against the wall. Bilbo’s hands rose to rest flat on Thorin’s chest.

“I’m not that little,” he protested.

“You’re littler than me,” teased Thorin.

“All the seven kingdoms are littler than you,” stated Bilbo.

“Dwalin is half a finger taller than me,” he clarified.

“Of course you would know that,” he ridiculed. “Probably started a fight or two over it too.”

Gentle fingers tipped Bilbo’s head and brushed a whiskery kiss against the hobbit’s forehead. “Let’s go visit with the company,” murmured Thorin. “I’ll have Balin and Dwalin keep Dain out of the way. He’s annoyed both of us enough for one day.”

“Very well,” agreed Bilbo reluctantly.

“Are you tired?” he asked. “Do you want to go back to our room?”

Shaking his head, he sighed heavily. “I want to visit with the company. Dain just rubs me the wrong way,” he admitted.  Glancing up he was surprised to find Thorin was grinning down at him. “And what could you possibly find amusing about this?” he demanded.

Grin widening, he waggled his eyebrows at Bilbo. “I was wondering if I can rub you the right way?” he asked and waited expectantly.

Mouth dropping open in surprise, Bilbo spluttered in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just said that!” he snorted.

The look on his face was unrepentant. One finger brushed gently over Bilbo’s cheek. “I like making you blush,” he teased.

Bilbo heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You’re outrageous. Do you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” he purred.

“Just plain crazy!” mocked Bilbo with an unsympathetic shake of his head.

“Crazy for you,” he crooned.

“And soppy,” added Bilbo. “For all you’re a fearsome warrior, you’re a huge cuddly, sentimental softy.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well no,” he said. “I guess I’m just surprised, pleasantly surprised.”

“As King I be ruled by emotional. My decisions must be based on fact and logic,” explained Thorin. “It’s pleasant to be able to let go with you and be silly or soppy or cuddly as you say.” His smile was warm and inviting.

Bilbo stretched on his tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Thorin’s mouth. “I’m enjoying this side of you,” he explained. “I wasn’t complaining only commenting.”

The corners of Thorin’s mouth turned up in a wider smile. “You’re just as sentimental,” he pointed out. “Let’s go see what the company is up to before we get tired and have to go to bed like a couple of old fools.”

“Don’t you mean ninnies?”

Flashing a grin, he nodded in agreement. “We are ninnies.”

“We are pretty pathetic lately aren’t we?” commented Bilbo.

“It’s getting better,” Thorin said. “You haven’t had a headache in a few days have you?”

Shaking his head, he turned to resume walking down the hallway. “If the light is too bright it makes my head hurt, but not too badly.”

“We survived, that’s what’s important.”

**_______________________________**

They rode slowly through the forest, watching for trails or sign of game. It was Tauriel who spotted the deer first. “There,” she whispered bringing her mount to a stop and pointing until he spotted them. Deep in the trees on their left were three deer watching them. They sat quietly until the deer returned to grazing. Bifur tapped on her shoulder and pointed to the right of the deer and then he tapped once and pointed left. She nodded her understanding. Soundlessly, she slid down from her mount and lifted a hand to help him so he would land quietly. Once the dwarf was on the ground, he headed off in one direction and she in the other.

It took him a few minutes to walk to where he wanted to be without spooking the deer. Once he was in position, he sounded a birdcall, which was answered by the hoot of an owl. It wasn’t the proper response, but the elves didn’t use birdcalls to keep in touch without speaking so the hooting of an owl was the best they could do on short notice.

He started to trudge toward the deer trying to make enough noise to send them fleeing but not in a blind panic. He heard them when they started to move away from him, followed closely by the sound of an arrow and then a second. It didn’t take him long to find their tracks and follow them to where Tauriel was already gutting them. He made a hoist from the rope he carried and a chunk of wood, hauling the deer into the tree so they could bleed it and clean it out. Once it was hanging, he cut it to bleed it and Tauriel finished gutting it.

They did the same with the second stag before gathering up the offal and dragging it away from the carcasses. They worked quietly and efficiently until the snap of a twig had both of them on high alert. Moving to stand back to back, they waited for whatever had made the sound.

A deep rolling growl from Bifur’s left pulled his attention to a warg slinking through the trees toward them. “Ready?” he said softly. Tauriel raised her bow in response. Weaving through the trees, the warg moved until there was no more trees between them before gathering itself to charge. A quick crouch and the beast was barreling toward them, slavering jaws reaching for whatever it encountered first. Bifur threw his boar spear as Tauriel’s arrow flew. The beasts snarl faltered into a bloody gurgle as it fell and slid to a stop, an arrow lodged in its eye and a spear buried deeply in its chest.

Neither moved, but stood listening for the sound of another warg, but none came. “We should go,” said Bifur continuing to scan the forest around them. “Wargs are never alone.”

Tauriel nodded in agreement and pulled her arrow and his spear from the warg. “Do you want to skin it?”

“Do we dare take the time?” he asked.

“We can skin it fast,” she said. “We’ll do the body and not the legs. It has a beautiful pelt.”

He nodded and drew his knife. They worked form opposite ends cutting and pulling until they had it free. He cut couple of strips from a leg and used them to tie up the hide after he rolled it up.

“Help me with the deer,” she said lowering the carcasses to the ground. “We don’t have time to make another travois. We’ll have to drag them.”

They soon had the deer lashed together and were back in the saddle. Following their tracks back, they rode quietly until they were a safe distance away. Bifur pointed to a cluster of young willows, which were easy to cut.

A few minutes of chopping and he had enough wood to make another travois. Tauriel helped him lash the pieces together and then helped secure it to the horse. Once the deer were on the travois, they continued back to the cave.

Legolas and Bofur were there ahead of them as they rode in. “Any luck?” asked Bofur.

“We got two and a warg!” answered Bifur.

“You saw a warg?” asked Legolas coming to meet them.

Tauriel nodded. “It was alone,” she told him.

“That’s strange,” he said moving to look at the deer and the hide on their travois. “They always hunt in packs.”

“Still a blessing nonetheless,” she murmured.

It didn’t take long to store the meat and get a fire started. “Wish we had some potatoes,” murmured Bofur.

“Wine would be great,” added Bifur. “Or ale.”

“Ale would be good,” agreed Tauriel.

Legolas gave her an amused look. “Developing a taste for dwarven ale?” he teased.

Her answering grin was unrepentant. “Kili likes ale. Seemed I needed to give it a try,” she told him.

Legolas nodded. “Has he a taste for elven wine?”

She laughed. “I don’t know if his Uncle would allow it in the mountain, but he likes the wine from Esgaroth,” she said over her shoulder, heading to the mouth of the cave.

“They make a pretty smooth wine in Esgaroth,” agreed Bofur. “Nothing beats a good dwarven stout though.”

His smile was amused. “I find it too heavy and earthy for my taste,” he admitted.

“Maybe the lighter spring ale would be to your taste,” offered Bifur. “It’s made without roasting the grain first. Gives it a lighter color and taste.”

“I look forward to trying it.”

“It’s almost dark,” called Tauriel from farther down the tunnel.

Legolas stood and walked into the tunnel “Keep the fire going,” he called back to the dwarves. Bifur waved absently at them as he turned the improvised spit cooking their portions of deer meat.

**_______________________________**

The climb up the stairs was low for both of them. Halfway up they stopped and laughed at the ridiculousness of climbing the stairs in their conditions. “We really are pathetic,” said Bilbo.

Thorin nodded. “This climbing makes my stomach hurt.”

“Want to go back down?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin looked down the stairs and then up. “We can make it,” he chided.

Bilbo laughed and started to climb again. “At least it will be easier going down,” he pointed out.

Thorin gave his butt a gentle pinch. “Tempting,” he teased.

“You go up first,” he demanded.

“So you can pinch me? I think not.”

When they reached the top, Bilbo stood looking down each of the two hallways. “Which way?” he asked.

“Either is fine. They both go to the same place.” Thorin started down the right hallway, as it was closer, Bilbo falling in beside them.

It didn’t take long to reach a large open area, littered with seating and tables. The company sat around a large central fire pit, chatting quietly. “Uncle!” called Kili gesturing them over. “We saved you a seat.”

Fili and Kili were stretched out on a long padded bench next to Ori and Gloin, who quickly made room for the newcomers. Directing Bilbo to sit first, with his back in the corner of the bench and a leg against the back of the bench. Thorin sat next to him and settled between his legs with his back to Bilbo’s chest.

“Comfy?” Bilbo asked, hands settling on Thorin’s shoulders.

Tipping his head back, he smiled at his hobbit. “Didn’t think you’d sit quietly on my lap with everyone here,” he murmured softly.

“I wasn’t complaining,” he clarified.

Gloin and Ori pulled chairs closer so they could talk.

Thorin was watching his nephews. “Kili where is your elf?” he asked.

Kili shifted so he was sitting sideways and could see his Uncle. “Tauriel went out hunting with the elf prince, Bifur and Bofur today,” he said. “They were going farther out and weren’t sure if they would come back tonight.”

Thorin nodded. “I’d like to talk to you about her soon,” he said.

Kili’s face grew serious. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

“Yes you are,” he agreed. “I still want to talk to you about this decision.”

Kili glared at him for a moment before sighing and nodding.

“Uncle I’d like to get my own room,” stated Fili. “We had to share in Ered Luin because of space, but not now.”

Thorin nodded thoughtfully. “Talk to Balin,” he told him. “He’s allocating housing in the royal wing. It might be a bit before the rest of the rooms are ready, but I’m sure he can sort something out.”

“Is everyone staying in the royal wing?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said. “It never occurred to me to ask Balin. We’ll get it sorted when Erebor is secured with the Ered Luin troops.”

“Have you had an update on the caravan?” Gloin asked.

“Not in a day or two. Balin might know more,” answered Thorin.

Nori strolled over. “Does anyone want ale? Bombur brought up a keg,” he asked. Thorin raised his hand, but Nori ignored him. “Oin said no ale for you or Kili with all the medicine he’s giving the both of you.” Thorin crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Bilbo wove his hands through his hair stroking his head to distract him.

“I don’t think I could drink any right now anyway,” said Kili. “I still feel pretty awful.”

“Are you going to get sick?” asked Fili. “If you are, go now don’t wait like that time you did in that one bar. What was it called Uncle? I can’t remember.”

“The Silver Thimble,” Thorin said with an exaggerated grimace belying his relaxed state. “I had to burn my tunic. I couldn’t get the smell out of it!”

“Was he sick on his liquor?” laughed Gloin.

“He ate something that didn’t agree with him, but he’d been drinking all evening,” explained Thorin. “We had to share a room and were sleeping two to a bed. Kili puked on me in the middle of night.”

“Ewww,” groaned Bilbo, his hands stopping their steady caresses.

Thorin tipped his head so he could see Bilbo. “It was on my chest, in my beard, it was everywhere.” He leaned into Bilbo's hands in a silent request that his hobbit resume his stroking. Obliging, Bilbo's hands returned to combing through Thorin's thick hair and occasionally scratching gently against his head. The dwarf lay with his head back, eyes closed as he almost purred under Bilbo's minstrations.

“I said I was sorry,” moaned Kili.

“It was still gross little brother,” chided Fili.

“Sounds like Gimli,” said Gloin. “Showing off and trying to out drink Halyn.”

“Isn’t she the Brew Master’s daughter?” asked Ori.

Nodding, Gloin shifted to get comfortable. “I think he was around forty-five. Gimli and some of his friends were boasting at weapons training. Halyn called them on it and they had to try to live up to their boasts,” he said with an amused chuckle. “It was a matter of honor he said. Later that night, he stumbled in and puked all over his mother. Ruined her dress and her boots.”

“Dwarves should know their limits,” said Ori. “Halyn has probably been drinking ale since she could walk. She could probably drink us all under the table.”

“Have you ever been drunk?” Dwalin asked, pulling a chair over to join them.

Ori gave him an offended look. “Of course I have,” he replied. “I try not to though because I have to be up early for scribe classes. Mister Balin doesn’t like it if we’re late.”

“Aye, that’s true,” agreed Dwalin, leaning back and crossing his arms. “When we were younger, Balin and I used to go out drinking quite often. This one time,” he said starting his tale.

**_______________________________**

“Do you see anything?” whispered Tauriel.

Legolas shook his head. They were hiding behind the rocky ridge across from where the dwarves disappeared earlier in the day. “I can’t see if there is a tunnel behind that rock formation,” he whispered.

“We’re going to have to get closer.” He nodded in agreement, but neither of them moved. Both sat silently observing and listening. Tauriel leaned closer whispering in his ear. “Something else is out there.”

He gave an absent nod, eyes scanning the area carefully. In the distance, faint voices could be heard. “Someone is coming,” he whispered, pointing toward the north.  Vague shapes began to coalesce out of the darkness. As they drew closer, the shapes began to resolve into orcs riding wargs. “Orcs,” hissed Legolas.

“I see them.”

“We might have to help the dwarves,” he warned.

Tauriel pulled her bow from its sheath, nocking an arrow to the string. From the corner of her eye, she could see Legolas do the same. They both watched as the orcs approached the rock formation. “They don’t seem to be aware of the dwarves yet,” he whispered. “We should be able to kill a few before they know where we are.” She nodded and crouched, ready to run.

Below them a dwarf, appeared from behind the rock formation and stood waiting as the orcs approached. The orcs stopped a few feet from the dwarf and spoke. They were too far away to hear clearly, what was said. They might not be able to hear, but they could see the dwarf wave the orcs closer. The orcs dismounted their wargs and followed the dwarf behind the rock formation.

Legolas and Tauriel shared a look and lowered their bows at the same time. “We need to alert the King under the Mountain,” he whispered. Tauriel nodded and moved to climb down the back of the ridge.

The ride back to where the two dwarves waited was silent and quick. Bifur and Bofur were talking quietly when they entered the cave. “We can’t stay here tonight,” said Legolas.

“We need to return to the mountain right now,” added Tauriel.

Bofur stood up, weapon in hand. “What did you find?” he questioned. Bifur stood up beside him though his eyes were looking over their shoulder.

“There is definitely something behind that rock formation,” said Tauriel. “We didn’t get close enough to see what it was though.”

Legolas nodded. “Before we could approach closer than the ridge, orcs arrived and were welcomed by the dwarves. We need to notify the King under the Mountain immediately. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s serious.”

“We’ll ride faster if we leave the meat,” said Tauriel

Bifur began kicking dirt over the fire. Bofur headed toward the front of the cave. “No. Let’s get the meat loaded up,” he said. “If we come back without it, people will be suspicious.”

“He’s right,” agreed Legolas. It didn’t take them long before they were headed back to Erebor. They rode quietly at a slow trot.

“Can you get word to your father?” Tauriel asked Legolas. “They might need more elven troops. I don’t know how many dwarves are with the caravan.

He nodded. “If they loan me a raven,” he said. “I can have word to my father by morning.”

“We notify Thorin and let him decide,” suggested Bofur. “He will know how many dwarves are coming.”

“First we get to the mountain,” said Bifur.

It took another couple of hours to get close enough to see the great braziers burning above the gates of Erebor. The guards on the gates challenged them as they drew closer, but soon let them in when they saw who it was. “Let’s drop this meat off in the cool room off the kitchen,” directed Bifur.

Several guards stepped forward to help. “Successful hunt,” commented one guard.

“We went out farther, toward Mirkwood,” Tauriel lied. “Very lucky hunt.”

“More meat is always good,” said another guard as he pulled a deer from the travois and heaved it over his shoulder.

Once the meat was hung in the cold room, they settled the horses in the stable and went to find Thorin. Legolas followed the dwarves up the ramp to the royal wing. The guards eyed him curiously, but didn’t stop him from entering with the others.

“Why are the guards human and not dwarf,” he whispered to Tauriel.

She glanced over her shoulder at the two guards who were looking away from them. “I’ll tell you later,” she whispered back.

“Do you know which room is Thorin’s?” asked Bifur.

“Bilbo and Thorin are in the room next to Kili and Fili,” she said, pointing at the correct door. “That one.”

Moving to the door, Bofur knocked softly. They waited, but no one answered the door. He knocked again louder this time. “What are you doing?” asked Dwalin, walking out of the hallway to the upper level.

Bofur whirled around to face him. “You startled me,” he scolded a hand going to his chest. He glanced at the guards and moved to stand right next to Dwalin. “We need to speak to Thorin,” he whispered. “It’s an emergency.”

Dwalin eyed each of them sharply as he absorbed Bofurs words. The other three stared back at him solemnly. He nodded and turned to head back down the hallway. He led them up the stairs and over to the bench where Bilbo and Thorin rested. Everyone else was sitting in chairs on the other side of the room, leaving the King and his Consort alone. Thorin was turned toward Bilbo, laying partway on his front with arms wrapped around the hobbit’s middle. Bilbo was asleep, head laid back on the side of the bench, one hand woven into Thorin’s hair.

“Thorin,” said Dwalin.

“Go away,” he grumbled.

“Someone needs to talk to you.”

“We’re sleeping,” complained Bilbo.

“If you’re talking to me, you’re not sleeping,” Dwalin corrected the hobbit.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” asked Thorin.

Tauriel took a step closer. “I’m sorry your Majesty,” she apologized. “It can’t wait.”

Thorin was quiet for a moment. “Kili’s elf?” he asked. “I keep forgetting your name,” he explained, turning his head so he was looking at her.

“Tauriel sir,” she provided.

“Tauriel,” he repeated. “I’ll try to remember that. Now what’s so important?” he asked, eyeing each of the others in turn.

She glanced at Legolas, who nodded. “May I come closer?” she asked.

Bilbo’s head came up off the arm of the bench and he looked at each of them before meeting Tauriel’s gaze. “He won’t bite,” he teased with an amused smile.

Thorin snorted. “I might,” he quipped.

Bilbo gave the handful of hair he was holding a fond tug before smoothing it out. “Come here before he falls asleep,” he urged.

Tauriel moved to the bench, giving Dwalin a cautious glace before kneeling down and leaning close so she could whisper. She told them of their hunting trip and everything they’d seen. When she was done, she leaned back but kept her eyes on Thorin. “Did anyone else see this?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “Legolas was the only one with me the second time,” she explained. “We can move swifter and quieter than a dwarf. Our intention was to see if there was a cave behind the rock formation and return right after.”

“You would swear to this?” he asked.

She nodded. “As would the elf prince,” she added. “We wouldn’t carry a tale.”

“I am not questioning your truthfulness,” he explained. “These are serious accusations and the one who commands those dwarves might.”

She nodded in understanding. “What does this mean Thorin,” asked Bilbo.

“I’m not sure yet, my burglar,” he said. “Dwalin!” he called his guard. “I need everyone over here now!” he directed. “Bilbo,” he said, turning his head so he could see the hobbit. “Can you slide out from under me so I can get up?”

“Of course,” he said already moving. Thorin pushed himself up enough that the hobbit could slide off the bench. Once he’s maneuvered himself back to a sitting position, Bilbo sat beside him and the others were dragging chairs over.

Once everyone was seated, Thorin motioned for the others to grab chairs. “We have a new problem,” he said.


End file.
